


The Sun Over Saqqara

by YamatosSenpai



Series: The Woods of Arcadia [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Ancient Egypt, Ancient History, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Horror, M/M, Prequel, Supernatural Elements, Tragedy, Violence, Woods of Arcadia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 115,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9463346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamatosSenpai/pseuds/YamatosSenpai
Summary: Prequel to The Woods of Arcadia/ Snow in WallachiaOver a thousand years before two Samurai, Shunsui and Jushiro, became entangled in Aizen's web, two shifters met.  Grimmjow, the oldest Shifter in existence meets a young Shifter, by chance, Ichigo Kurosaki.  Grimmjow soon discovers something about Ichigo that is impossible to walk away from- for now.*Relies very heavily on the lore and mythology from WOA Universe





	1. The Sun Over Saqqara

** Part I: The Sun Over Saqqara **

The tomb was exceptionally well hidden. The seal was broken, but the path had not been tread for centuries, and perhaps it was only time and sand that had damaged the seal. It was possible that this pilfering would make them all very, very rich. The young man went first, his slender and nimble frame passed through the tunnel easily. He stepped into the antechamber, a strange, and heavy, perfumed scent filling his nostrils. He felt a sudden wave of nausea and swooned before catching himself.

“ _Rusu_ , be careful!” The older man warned, reaching out for the young man in concern. “Watch your step.”

The young man, no more than fourteen floods in appearance, nodded, a burst of air escaping past his lips, “I’m fine.”

“What is it?” Another man pressed impatiently, sliding out from the narrow tunnel with great effort. “Do you see the treasure?”

“I see nothing yet.” The young man answered, his hand trailing along the handsomely decorated walls.

“Cause you don’t carry a torch.” The third man hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I couldn’t see a camel’s ass in this darkness if I was riding upon it!”

“I can see.” The young man replied with a shrug, continuing forward calmly.

“What _do_ you see?” the second man snapped. “I must know! Is there anything of value?”

The young man studied the painted walls for a long moment before turning to face the men, “There is nothing of value to you here. We must go further.”

“Hey, take this torch,” the first man, the eldest brother insisted, offering a spare torch.

The young man smiled politely, raising his hand in refusal, “I cannot.”

“Crazy little _Rusu_ ,” the third man murmured.

The young man continued forward, deeper into the tomb. There was something nearly debilitating about the still air. He hesitated at another narrow passage. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

The men chuckled, “Lost yer nerve, boy?”

“Maybe,” the young man agreed, smiling tightly. “It’s just that…”

“Just what?” the eldest brother asked.

“The air is foul.” The young man explained, his fingers pressing to the stone uneasily. “But, still, there is honeyed scent in the air.”

“That’s the smell of treasure.” The third brother decided with a smile. “Shall we find it then?”

* * *

 

**_Four days prior_ **

_“There’ll be enough treasure to feed everyone! And not the sort of slop we’re used to either…”_

_“I don’t know. I don’t know if I have that long of a journey left in me.”_

He never intended to eavesdrop on the group of men. In fact, he never intended to be seen. He slinked through the market under the cover of darkness, chasing after the farmer’s cart. There wasn’t much left unsold, but just one of those big, leafy cabbages would appease his unbearable hunger.

_“You can’t back out now. We’ve already paid for the camels!”_

He was used to being invisible, he was used to being unseen. So he thought nothing of sneaking into the cart to snatch away some precious vegetables. Those farmers had round bellies, he wasn’t hurting anyone directly... He was inches from his prize, just a smidge more and he would have his next meal.

_“What about traps? And those narrow spaces, huh? What about’em?”_

And then it happened again. His entire body grew heavy. He seized up, his head spinning sickeningly. He opened his mouth with a cry, his vision blurring in and out. His stomach lurched painfully and if his stomach wasn’t so empty he would have vomited.

A knife was at his throat before he could move. His heart pounded wildly, it was too much damn trouble to die. “Wait!”

“For what, thief?!”

“You… You’re no better, are you? You’re thieves too!” The young man shouted, his brown eyes narrowing.

“Shhhhh! Or I really will slit your damn throat!” the man with the knife snarled.

“You’re not from these parts.”

The young man shook his head. “No.”

“So you won’t be missed…”

“No, but…” the young man paused unsurely. “I can help you.”

“We don’t need your help.”

“I’m thin, I can make it through tight passageways,” the young man explained hurriedly. “You… You were talking about grave robbing, right? I can be useful…”

“This isn’t a job for children.” Another man sneered.

The third man joined in gruffly, “Or for strangers.”

“I can do the job.” The young man assured them.

“He’s thin… but looks strong.”

“We probably won’t find someone smaller who’s still strong enough to carry treasure…”

“I can do the job.” The young man insisted. “Better than anyone else.”

“You’re confident.” The first man noted with a dry smile.

The young man returned the smile, arrogant and mischievous on his handsome face, “I’m experienced.”

“Are you Egyptian?”

“No.” the young man answered. “Mesopotamian.”

“Do you speak the language of the Arab tribes?” the third man asked, cocking his head to one side.

“No.” the young man lied. “But I speak both Akkadian and Sumerian.”

The men nodded and leaned in closely, speaking Arabic in hushed whispers. “We’d have to split it six ways if he joins us. Three for us brothers, one for him, and two for the men with the camels and supplies…”

“It will still be plenty.” Another assured the others.

“If we’re caught we get nothing!”

“If we’re caught they’ll slit our throats!”

“If we kill him… we split it five ways.”

“Five ways is better.”

“If we kill him, we must leave him out in the desert. Let the sand bury our sins.”

“Have you made a decision?” the young man interrupted, still feigning ignorance to the new tongue they spoke in.

“We will provide two meals a day for the journey; the pay will be split upon our return to this camp. It will be split among us and our two other associates. Do you accept?”

The young man nodded, “I accept.”

“My name is Akil, this is Biti, and that is Ebo. What’s your name?” The eldest brother, Akil, asked.

The young man’s face was smooth and expressionless as he replied, “Call me whatever you like.”

“Ah. Then we shall call you ‘ _Rusu_ ’ for that shock of red hair.” The middle brother, Biti, decided with a smirk, putting away his blade.

“That’s fine,” the young man agreed with a nod.

“Since you know our plans, you won’t be leaving us tonight. I’m sure you understand, don’t you? We don’t exactly want anyone else to find out our plans, right?” Ebo explained, his eyes following the young man with sharp interest.

The young man nodded, “If I must stay with you, I ask for a cabbage.”

“Cabbage?” Akil asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Yes, sir.” The young man replied politely. “I never intended to go on a treasure hunt. I was simply planning on stealing some of your cabbage.” The young man smiled apologetically.

“Aye then. Would you like some soup to go with that cabbage, _Rusu_?” Akil chuckled heartily.

“Yes, sir.” The young man replied eagerly, licking his chapped lips. “I would.”

Biti snarled in agitation, “There’s no need to feed him.”

“He won’t make the journey if we don’t feed him.” Akil pointed out, gesturing for them to continue. “You want your treasure, right?” Biti and Ebo clicked their tongues before nodding.

* * *

 

“There’s something ahead…” the young man gasped, the stone pressed tightly against his sides. “I can almost see it…”

“Hurry!” Ebo shouted. “See what it is!”

“How can he see without a light?!” Biti snapped irritably.

“Something happened here…” the young man breathed out anxiously. “The walls are broken. There’s no room… The air… There’s so little air…”

The brothers spoke amongst each other before Biti called out, “Save your breath. Keep going!”

He inhaled sharply, feeling panic rise up from his stomach and into his throat. He inhaled and exhaled, nearly gasping for fresh air. The air was fetid and still as death. “I… I think something happened to this wall. There’s stone… It’s collapsed… I… I… I think I’m stuck…”

“Stay calm.” Akil called to him. “Move one length at a time. Can you move the stone at all?”

“The stone?” the young man groaned, looking around at the overwhelming position he was in. “It weighs more than a house…”

“Come back.” Akil ordered.

“Wait!” Biti barked. “Can you see the next chamber? Is there anything there?”

The young man narrowed his eyes in the darkness. He could almost make out the chamber in front of him. There was a glimmer of gold and silver. He nodded, crying out excitedly, “Yes! Yes! I see something!”

“Alright, come back…” Ebo instructed. “We’ll try another way!”

The young man moved to return, the stone tearing at his clothes and exposed skin. He caught almost instantly on his retreat and panic flooded through him. He swallowed with difficulty, his vision doubled for a few torturous seconds.

“Yo.” The young man cried out in horror at the unexpected greeting. His head whipped to the side, his brown eyes searching the chamber beyond. He saw nothing but a faint gleam of gold.

“What? What happened?” Akil shouted to him. “Are you hurt?”

“There was…” the young man hesitated. “I thought I heard something…”

“Hurry now.” Ebo demanded. “We’ll find a way around.”

“I’m coming.” The young man responded. “Just a moment.”

“Are ya stuck?”

The young man’s eyes narrowed and he saw the flicker of something large and white. He licked his lips nervously, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. “Who’s there?”

“You are stuck.” The voice laughed teasingly. “How lame.”

“Where are you? Help me out of here…” The young man pleaded, inching closer to the chamber.

“Sorry. Can’t.” the man replied, nowhere in sight. “Stone’s too heavy. Even for me.” The man laughed bitterly. “Actually, I’d be long gone ‘cept that I’m stuck too…”

“You? You too? Where are you?” the young man gasped in surprise. “How long have you been in here?”

“What is taking so long?” Biti shouted. “Come out!”

The young man turned his head from Biti back to the chamber, shocked to discover a  set of brilliant blue eyes staring at him. They glowed in the darkness, nearly blinding to his eyes. “You see this wall?”

“Yeah,” the young man whispered.

“It collapsed. And try as I might, I can’t get it to budge…” the man laughed again. “Must be the Mummy’s Curse.”

“ _Rusu!_ Come back!”

“Those guys are gonna kill you, little _Rusu_ …” the man said suddenly.

“I know.” The young man replied to the man’s surprise.

“Then why don’t you just keep coming this way?” the man suggested wryly. “I’m too big to pass through that narrow space. You can keep me company…”

“How… How long have you been in there?” the young man asked.

The man laughed, his blue eyes disappearing. “You’re cute but you sure are stupid.”

“Excuse me?” the young man growled indignantly. “Well screw you. You can die in there for all I care.” He moved away quickly, the stone scraping against him roughly.

“Wait… Wait… Come back!” The man called out, nearly pleading. “I’m one of you, alright?”

The young man paused, “One of me?”

“Who’re you talking to?” Ebo hissed angrily. “I said, come back!”

“Who was that voice?” Biti questioned, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “Who else is there?”

“It’s uh, it’s no one!” the young man replied, shaken.

“Aww, that’s mean, _Rusu_.” The man purred. “I just wanted to be friends…”

“You,” the young man murmured, hesitating being the two sides. “What do you mean by one of me?”

“Kid, I’m a shifter. What did ya think I meant?” The man sighed.  “I sure as fuck ain’t no damn ginger.”

“You mean Master has…?” the young man began.

The other man cut him off with a scoff, “Nah. I no longer serve any fucking Master but myself.”

“Is that,” the young man hesitated before continuing, “Is that working out well for you?”

“You know what? I’m fine by myself. Fuck off.”

The young man laughed easily, a weight releasing in his belly, “Sorry.”

“I’m done with conversation. Forever.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Go on. Go back to those filthy humans. I don’t want you here.”

“No need to get your feelings hurt,” the young man teased, sliding even closer to the chamber.

“Let’s get this straight, I don’t have _feelings_ …”

“I… I think I can make it…” the young man realized before calling out excitedly. “I think I can make it!”

“Good!” Biti cheered. “Is there actually treasure?”

“I’m almost there!” the young man announced, ignoring the painful grinding of stone against his knees and shoulders.

“What if I don’t want to share my little chamber? Huh? What then?” the man whispered, a blur of white whipping through the darkness.

“You don’t have much of a choice,” the young man panted. “I can only go forward now…”

The young man pulled free of the stone with a cry. “I made it! I’m here…” He looked around the chamber hurriedly. It was nearly filled to the top with golden treasure. He searched the darkness before the sinking realization hit. “But where are you?”

“Thank you for coming.” The voice purred. “Welcome to my little home.” Treasure slid from the pile and the young man jumped. “I’m sorry if I’m a terrible host, but you see, I’m just _starving_ …” That same honey sweet scent filled his nostrils. “Don’t hold your breath, it’s better that way…”

“What?” the young man murmured, looking around the chamber and seeing only the vast treasure littering the floor and walls. His eyes lengthened into slits as, suddenly, an enormous white panther leapt toward him. He inhaled sharply as the claws pierced his skin. There was no pain or fear and he felt as if he might be nodding off to sleep. His body shook violently as the panther tore into his flesh, but it felt like a dream, he reached out stroking the creature’s snow white fur.

And then he was somewhere else entirely. He sat in an unfamiliar room, with open windows and flowy curtains. Beyond the stone walls was a beautiful, lush green landscape. He moved to stand but the person next to him gave him pause.

“Sit.” The man said, it was a suggestion. This other man sat on a large cushion, one leg under him and the other bent at the knee. He rested his head on his knee, a wide smirk on his handsome face. He was dressed in a peculiar fashion, a culture the young man was not accustomed to. It fit the other man.

The more he looked at the man next to him the sooner he realized how handsome he was. His eyes were bright and clear, the whites white and the blue blue. He had bronze skin and a strong jaw. He was broad and strong, but still had a stroke of boyish charm. And to top it all off, his hair was an exotic shade of powdery blue.

“You should eat something, kid. You’re skin and bones…”

The young man knew that the table had not been covered in food a moment before. He meant to politely refuse, but the spread was mouthwatering. He tore into the feast, stuffing his mouth with the fine food. He was starving, in the most painful and literal way. He realized that the other man remained motionless, watching him.  He paused and swallowed down his mouthful, “Aren’t you going to eat?”

The man shrugged, his arm sliding down his leg and between his thighs. “You first.”

The young man ate until he felt engorged. He rubbed his belly in contentment before leaning back. “It was delicious.”

Now that he was sated, the young man began to look around again. It wasn’t a room, per say, but rather stone walls with windows but no roof. A stone staircase winded down into a grassy path lined by white stone. The young man was sure that he’d never been to such a place before, “Where are we? And, uh, who are you?”

“You’re a backwards sort of guy, aren’t ya?” the man replied with an impish grin.

The young man shrugged, running his hands through his short, coppery hair. “Am I?”

“The name’s Grimmjow,” the man said, offering his hand in greeting. His hand was large and warm and unexpectedly soft.

“The name’s Grimmjow?” the young man repeated the name quietly. “And do you know where we are, Grimmjow?”

Grimmjow half chuckled, half sighed, “We can’t both be Grimmjow.”

“Ah, no, I’m… You can call me anything…” the young man murmured in embarrassment.

“Wha’did ya Mama call ya?” Grimmjow asked, those brilliant blue eyes watching the other intently.

“I’m… I-, ‘m not supposed to use it.” The young man finished finally, looking away from the other’s gaze.

“Why the fuck not?” Grimmjow asked, his head tilting to the side.

“It’s my Master’s wish…” the young man explained, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Wait. Are you _still_ under contract?” Grimmjow sat up, his expression darkening.

The young man grew still and quiet, his chocolate brown eyes dropping to the floor, “I’ve got a while yet...”

“Oh, yeah? How long?” Grimmjow asked, rolling to his feet limberly. He paced behind the young man, his curled shoes clicking against the stone.

“98 years, give or take.”

“Wow.” Grimmjow puffed out his cheeks in thought. “So… so you’re really, uh, in your original life time…”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Shit… I’ve been stuck in that pyramid longer than you’ve been alive. That’s fucking crazy…” Grimmjow shook his head to clear it. “You’re a damn baby!”

“I’m not a baby,” the young man retorted, his arms crossing his chest. “If I was still home I’d probably be a doctor by now!” He stood up, hopping off of the cushion hurriedly. “Now tell me, where are we?”

“Your body is still on the floor of the chamber. You’re in the pyramid of Saqqara.” Grimmjow explained, looking the younger man up and down critically.

“Then what is this place?” the young man asked.

“Eh,” Grimmjow shrugged. “Just somewhere I take the lucky guests.” Grimmjow’s smile returned, “We should probably get back. You’re really starting to twitch…”

“Huh? Twitch?” But the young man’s questions were answered the instant he returned to his senses.

He laid on the unyielding chamber floor, drowning in a pool of his own blood. He gasped, blood spraying across his chest. His clothes were in shreds and every inch of him was in agony except for his legs. He looked down, bile rising in his blood-filled throat, his legs were gone.

“W-w-wait!” He choked out weakly.

“Sorry,” the panther purred, almost as if in his ear. “I was just so hungry, ya know? You can understand, right?”

“I-I-I c-can’t d-d-ie…” the young man gasped, losing too much blood too quickly.

“You’ll be fine.” Grimmjow promised, his blood stained hands brushing over the young man’s face. He smiled, exposing pink teeth and stained skin. “Give it a minute.”

“No…” the young man cried out with effort. Blood gurgled in his throat sickly. “S-save me…”

Grimmjow laughed at the naivety. A shifter lived and died a thousand times, sometimes all before breakfast. “Let me help you out…” He leaned forward, his human hand ending in sharp, pristine claws. He sliced the young man’s throat neatly. “No use in suffering.”

_“You worthless… disgusting… pig…”_

“Hey, hey?” Grimmjow tapped the young man’s body unsurely. “You okay?”

_“You’re fucking useless…”_ Grimmjow sat back, an overpowering heaviness spreading from the teen’s corpse. He scrambled backward with an unconscious hiss as the young man sat up. His mouth never moved, and the deep, slow voice sounded nothing like his. _“You dare to damage my property?”_

The young man’s head turned and dead, unseeing eyes stared his direction. _“Worthless pig… letting me get damaged…”_ Grimmjow was silent as the corpse dragged itself to its repairing feet. It staggered clumsily, a heavy, deathlike breath tearing from its new lungs.

“ _Rusu_! What is taking you so long! If you double cross us, we’ll kill you!” Ebo shouted. “Get out here, _Rusu_!”

“Answer us!” Biti added furiously.

_“Slave, who,”_ he voice asked cryptically, _“killed the worthless pig? Who dared to damage me?”_

“Those guys.” Grimmjow answered without hesitation, his skin prickling as the voice addressed him. He pointed through the narrow opening for good measure.

The young man stood, his hands on either side of the broken wall. He looked up and down, calculating. And then, with a nauseating amount of power, he pressed his palms against the stone and decimated the walls. The entire pyramid shook as stone and debris rained down on them.

_“I will kill you,”_ the voice promised, walking through the wide open passage. _“I will end your worthless lives.”_ And in no more than an instant, three human lives were extinguished. They were nothing more than bloody smears on the stone. _“You will be punished, pig.”_ And then the young man collapsed, sprawling out across the broken rock. He inhaled sharply once and then fell silent, blood seeping from his eyes and nose.

Grimmjow swallowed uneasily. In thousands of years he had never seen anything like that. On pain of death, he didn’t think he could even explain what had happened. “Hey, kid? You okay?”

Grimmjow hadn’t expected an answer. He turned around and surveyed the damage to his collection of treasure. He’d guarded that treasure for nearly a hundred years already. He kneeled down, starting to hoist several bags over his shoulder. He stood and walked, stepping around the unconscious shifter’s form, through the tunnels, and out of the temple.

He looked around, gulping down lung-fulls of fresh breath. He let out a relieved sigh as he walked over to the tethered camels. He opened the first vessel of water he could find, pouring it into his mouth thirstily. He wiped the spill from his mouth, blood and water mixing into the skin of his arm like paint. The warmth reached his bones and he stood, the sand beneath his bare feet and the sun over Saqqara.


	2. An Enemy in the Necropolis

** Part II: An Enemy in the Necropolis **

_“As for every mayor, every wab-priest, every scribe and every nobleman who shall take [the offering] from the statue, his arm shall be cut off like that of this bull, his neck shall be twisted off like that of a bird, his office shall not exist, the position of his son shall not exist, his house shall not exist in Nubia, his tomb shall not exist in the necropolis, his god shall not accept his white bread, his flesh shall belong to the fire, his children shall belong to the fire, his corpse shall not be to the ground, I shall be against him as a crocodile on the water, as a serpent on earth, and as an enemy in the necropolis.”_

-Tomb of Sarenput I, Nomarch of the 1st nomos of Upper Egypt

* * *

 

The young man woke with a start. It was dark and the ground beneath him was hard. He pressed against the cold stone and sat up. He was no longer in the pyramid; he looked around the small hut in surprise.

“Mornin’.” Grimmjow announced from the bed beside him. The young man looked up at him in confusion. He sat sideways on the bed, his back against the wall and his arms beneath his head. He grinned from ear to ear, those blue eyes still locked intensely on the other.

“Good… morning?”

“Are you hungry?” Grimmjow asked, gesturing to a loaf of bread on the table.

The teen hurried over to the table, crawling on his knees anxiously. He grabbed the entire loaf and began stuffing it into his mouth with blind hunger. He barely chewed before swallowing and tearing off the next piece. His face fell suddenly, his eyes widening into round orbs, “Did you want some too?”

Grimmjow laughed at the belated, but well intentioned, thought. “I only eat meat.”

“Where are we?”

Grimmjow watched him, a crooked smile twisting his lips, “Somewhere safe for now.”

“What happened?” the young man asked, rubbing his legs subconsciously.

“That would’ve probably been my first question…” Grimmjow snickered.

“What happened?” the teen pressed urgently.

“I was really hungry…” Grimmjow replied apologetically. “I hadn’t eaten in years.”

The other made a face of complete woe. It made Grimmjow’s stomach ache to look at. “You killed me.”

“I didn’t know.” Grimmjow admitted. “Never, and I mean ever, has that sort of thing happened before.”

The young man’s eyes flashed in curiosity, “Then what happens when you die?”

Grimmjow was struck by the question, “I, uh, just come back to life.”

“And?” There was so much unspoken dread in that single syllable.

“And nothing,” Grimmjow explained. “For sure, my Master never showed up to scold me or kick anyone’s ass. And, hell, I’ve died so many fucking times I can’t count.” Grimmjow cleared his throat before asking a question, “Does he always do that? Ya know, show up? Like that?”

“Every time.” The young man replied, his eyes betraying the confusion in his heart.

“That sucks.” Grimmjow declared with a nod.

“Something smells good…” the young man realized aloud, inhaling deeply. He turned, drifting toward the scent until he knocked into the bed.

“Ah, sorry,” Grimmjow murmured, heat spreading across his face. “I was, uh, trying to calm you down. Cheer you up. Or something…”

“That smell is you?”

“Well, don’t word it like that, alright?” Grimmjow scoffed. “But yeah, I guess.”

“Why did you bring me here?” the teen asked suddenly, looking into Grimmjow’s eyes.

Grimmjow’s heart sputtered, “I have no fucking idea. Should I have left you alone in the desert?”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” the young man replied without hesitation.

Grimmjow’s face twisted angrily. “Oh yeah? Alright then. Why don’t you just fuck right off then?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized instantly. “I wasn’t trying to make you mad. I thought that was the answer.”

“The answer?” Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, trying to recall what he had actually asked.

“Thank you for bringing me here. And for the bread. I’m sorry that I’m worthless. I-”

Grimmjow felt something twist in his stomach, “Stop.” The teen obeyed immediately. Grimmjow smirked mischievously. “You should smile more.” Sure enough the boy’s mouth twitched upward into a tight smile. Grimmjow leaned forward on the bed in amusement, “You’re so weird.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize so much.”

“I’m s-, Yes, sir,”

Grimmjow laughed, “Will you do anything I say?” The teen was silent. “Say, touch your nose.” The smile wavered across the young man’s face, but he did as asked. “Turn in a circle.” He turned. “Come closer.” He inched closer to the bed and Grimmjow got an idea.  “Let me see you…” he commanded, expecting the teen to simply bend at the waist and show him his face. But instead the young man began to undress, pulling his shirt off and over his head.

“Stop.” Grimmjow breathed out as the other man’s hands reached for the tie of his pants. “That’s enough.” Grimmjow felt his skin crawl. “What’s the matter with you?”

The other’s face fell instantly, his smile erased. “Am I supposed to answer?”

“No.” Grimmjow snapped, pushing himself off the bed, past the teen, and across the room. “I’m going out.”

“Do you want me to stay here?” the young man asked. “Or do you want me to disappear before you get back?”

Grimmjow shrugged, “I don’t really care.”

* * *

 

**_Two nights later_ **

The door of the hut scraped against the stone flooring. Grimmjow slipped inside, a heavy stench of blood clinging to him. He already knew the young man was still there, they could sense each other from miles away. He looked around the empty room toward the corner where the teen sat huddled.

“You’re still here.”

“I had nowhere else to go.” Both statements were too obvious to be necessary.

Grimmjow sighed heavily, “What’s your name, kid?” The silence angered the Shifter and he lashed out, striking the table and sending it clattering to the floor in pieces. “Ya ain’t gotta be afraid! Or should I just call you a little fucking pig like he does?”

“I’ll rip your damn tongue out,” the teen fired back.

Grimmjow nodded, pleased with the aggressive response, “That’s better. Now what’s your name?” The question was met with silence again. Grimmjow crossed the room, yanking the teen up by his arm. “Answer.”

“I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Why are you so angry at me?”

Grimmjow released his vicelike grip, droplets of blood flowing from where his claw-like fingers dug into the younger man’s arm. Grimmjow made a noise deep in his throat. In truth, he didn’t know either. “I just wanna know your name, is all.”

“I can’t tell you.”

Grimmjow’s nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. He groaned in displeasure, his teeth sharpening into thin needle-like pricks. He let out a breath and smiled kindly, “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

Grimmjow pulled a small leaf-wrapped package from his clothing. He tossed it to the young man. He looked around the dark hut as the other began to eat. “Don’t you need some light?”

“No, I like the dark.” The teen replied quickly, tearing into the dried strips of chicken.

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes but he decided not to press the subject. If he was gonna badger the kid, he needed to pick one thing to do it about. “We’re moving out tomorrow.”

‘ _We’re?’_ is what he wanted to ask, but instead he went with, “Why?”

“Humans notice everything eventually.” Grimmjow explained, watching the teen eat. “We can’t stay in one place too long.”

“But there’s no one around,” the young man pointed out between bites.

Grimmjow nodded knowingly, “For now. You’re new at this, kid. You’ll get it soon enough. Humans are drawn to us like moths to a flame. I fucking hate humans.”

“But aren’t you a human?”

Grimmjow snarled in disgust, “Never.”

The young man’s face contorted with confusion, “But…”

“Look here. I’m a shifter but I was never a damn human.” Grimmjow clarified curtly. “And before you ask a stupid question, no I ain’t no fucking Master.”

The teen smiled in amusement, “Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Grimmjow shouted in frustration.

“Then what are you?” the teen questioned skeptically.

“I don’t tell nameless little piggies.” Grimmjow teased. “They wouldn’t understand.”

The teen clicked his tongue angrily, his brown eyes narrowing. He opened his mouth to speak but swallowed his reply, much to Grimmjow’s disappointment. He eventually muscled up some nerve to respond with a dry “whatever.”

* * *

 

“What’s in the bag?”

Grimmjow eyed the young man with disdain, “None of yer business.”

“It’s your treasure.” The teen realized aloud, sinking into a bit of sand before righting himself.

“Yep.” Grimmjow confirmed with a sigh.

The young man chewed on his cracked bottom lip, “Got any food in there?”

“I told you to bring your own damn bag.” Grimmjow chastised.

The young man’s eyes widened, “No you didn’t!”

“Ah, well, I meant to. Guess I forgot.” Grimmjow shrugged off his pack, holding it in front of him to search through it. “Next time we run into somebody, get you a bag.”

“I don’t have any money.”

Grimmjow made a face, “If that’s a joke I don’t get it.”

“Are you saying you’ll share your treasure with me?”

“Your jokes are bad.”

The teen shrugged nonchalantly, “Oh, I see. You want me to steal and draw more attention to myself.”

“Are you retar-” Grimmjow cut himself off. He took a deep breath and turned, blocking the ginger youth’s path. “I mean the strings. Did ya lose ‘em or something?”

“Strings?” the teen made an incredulous face. “What are you talking about?”

“The strings. In that little pouch… Like this… this… this one…” Grimmjow murmured, searching his belongings for a little black pouch of coins. He opened it and showed the inside to the boy. “The strings spend like real money…” Grimmjow pulled out one of the many strings of thread. He placed it in his hand and beamed expecting some sort of reaction from the other man.

“It’s a thread.” The teen replied, rolling his eyes in the most frustrating way.

“No, it’s a…” Grimmjow paused and took another deep breath. “Never mind. This is something given to me by my Master. He was a real sonnuvabitch. I never imagined other Shifters had it worse.”

“Your Master is different than mine?” Grimmjow simply nodded. “And there are other Shifters?”

“Loads of ‘em.” Grimmjow muttered. “So many in fact, there’s a damn Council.”

“What’s the Council for?”

Grimmjow hesitated before answering, “They help Shifters adjust afterward.”

“After what?”

“After the contract expires.” Grimmjow explained. “Humans were never intended to live hundreds or thousands of years.”

“So I should go there when I’m done with my contract?”

Grimmjow shrugged, “It’s not really my place or anything to say what you should do, but the Council is great. Immortality gets old, fast.”

“Why aren’t you with the Council then?”

Grimmjow smirked, he often did when presented the opportunity to speak about himself, “I’m an adventurer. I can’t imagine just sitting around in the palace like they do.”

“There’s a palace?”

“Yeah. A palace of ice. It sparkles like jewels.” Grimmjow smiled at the thought. “A long time ago, I helped some Shifters out. They’re the ones who started the Council. So, I guess, it’s as close to a Father as I’ll ever get. Sometimes they even ask me for money or advice…” Grimmjow laughed. “You can’t give those threads to people with the gift. They’ll only ever see string.”

“It’s a lot more complicated than I thought.”

Grimmjow nodded understandingly, “Yeah, it’s a lot to absorb.”

“So you just go around helping people, huh?”

Grimmjow made a face, an embarrassed blush settling into his cheeks. “No. That’s not it. I’m a treasure hunter.”

The teen laughed, a natural, light sound, “Some treasure hunter. You’ve been stuck in a pyramid for how long?”

“I wasn’t stuck.” Grimmjow barked, pushing the teen without remorse. “I was waiting.”

“Oh, for what?”

“Obviously you.” The young man’s face turned completely scarlet. He closed his mouth after a moment, his eyes still wide in surprise. Grimmjow cleared his throat. “I like to help the truly hopeless cases.”

“Are you the first Shifter or something?”

Grimmjow shook his head, “Hardly. But I’m the oldest one still living.”

“But I thought you said Shifters were immortal…?”

“To become a Shifter,” Grimmjow explained gruffly. “You’re given a piece of your Master. Well, he’ll be wanting it back eventually.” Grimmjow’s hand moved to his stomach. “Is yours anything important? Mine’s the guts. Can’t live without those.”

“Ah, I see,” the young man nodded his head, his hands shifting through his coppery hair.

“Where’s yours?” Grimmjow asked curiously, watching the boy from the corner of his eye.

“Something important,” he replied simply.

“I can’t believe I’ve been without conversation for a century and now I’m stuck with you.” Grimmjow complained.

“I’m sorry,” the teen sighed.

“Don’t fucking apologize so much…” Grimmjow groaned. “It’s annoying.”

“I could start walking the other direction,” the young man suggested.

Grimmjow nodded, considering, “You could.”

“Maybe I will.”

“I won’t stop you.”

“You couldn’t stop me if you wanted to.”

Grimmjow was piqued, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He returned, his chest broadening.

“You’re still following me…” Grimmjow pointed out.

“No, you’re following me.”

Grimmjow clicked his tongue in frustration. He swallowed his reply as the teenager’s face broke into a smile. “I’ll let you have that one. ‘Cause I’m nice.”

“Of course,” the boy replied, still smiling. “That’s why.”

* * *

 

“Hey, kid,” Grimmjow called out, emptying sand from his sandals.

“Yeah?”

Grimmjow stepped back into his shoes before turning around, “What’s your animal?”

“My animal?”

Grimmjow frowned deeply, his head sinking forward onto his chest in defeat, “How have you lived so long?”

“I can’t die...” The ginger suggested dryly.

“I, Grimmjow, turn into a snow panther.” Grimmjow confessed, pressing his hand to his chest in presentation. “Nameless pig turns into a…?”

The young man crossed his arms over his chest, “I don’t turn into anything.”

“Every Shifter _shifts_ , kid.” Grimmjow sighed in exasperation. “Is it a pig?” The silence and blank stare from the other man was enough to throw Grimmjow into a full rage. “Fucking hell! Watch me!”

Grimmjow’s form quivered, the edges blurring. Steam seemed to roll off his skin. It was foul like Sulphur before turning sweet, his particular scent. His bones cracked at unnatural angles. He let out an agonized growl, falling weakly to his knees. And within another few seconds a magnificent beast stood in front of the teen.

The panther was snow white, with glaring blue eyes. Bits of fur around the ears and chest were powdery blue. The young man stepped forward, forgetting himself as he smoothed his hand across the creature’s back. Before he could stop himself he murmured, “Beautiful.” The panther stood calmly, a pleasant rumble vibrating from its chest. It blinked at him slowly before twisting around his legs.

“I can’t turn into a cat.” The teen admitted as Grimmjow shifted back into his human form.

“That’s not surprising,” Grimmjow said simply. “Every Shifter I’ve ever seen has been different.” Grimmjow scratched his stomach lazily. “So. What are you?”

“Nothing like that.” The boy whispered.

“Shift. Show me.” Grimmjow suggested impatiently.

The teen shifted, his visage disappearing completely into the sand. Grimmjow and the invisible boy stood there for several minutes, the sun high and bright overhead. Finally Grimmjow sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know your Master and I hate ‘im.”

“So what am I?” the teen pressed.

“You’re walking.” Grimmjow returned, turning around and walking through the sand. “Follow me or don’t.”

* * *

 

“We should be close to some humans by tomorrow,” Grimmjow said. “If you need to meet a quota, do it then.” The other man’s face screwed up in confusion and Grimmjow cursed. “If you’re about to ask what I mean by a quota, I will eat your face.”

“Never mind then.”

“Fine. Go on. Say what you were gonna say…” Grimmjow conceded with a scowl.

“You change sides faster than a coin.”

Grimmjow moved quickly, running to the side and kicking out at the other man’s legs. The sudden attack caught the slighter man by surprise and he ended up rolling forward, tumbling across the sand as if he weighed nothing. Grimmjow burst into laughter at the humorous sight, doubling over and holding his stomach. “That… That was… I’m… I’m sorry, but that was…”

“You fucking lunatic!” the boy shouted in anger, slipping twice as he climbed to his feet. Sand poured from his clothes, little sparkles of it sticking to his skin.

“I’m not the lunatic here, kid.” Grimmjow insisted.

“You could’ve broken my neck!” He accused, running back up the sand dune toward Grimmjow.

“Good. I’ve got a bone to pick with your Master.” Grimmjow replied, dodging as the youth lunged at him.

“You!” the teen roared, his face turning pink with frustration. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“I’ve never seen a weaker Shifter in my life.” Grimmjow replied coolly as the teen grabbed the collar of his shirt. “Even the dying ones had more life in their eyes.”

“Shut up!” the younger man shouted, his form rippling in and out of view, out of his control.

“You’ve got no presence or talent or even a name,” Grimmjow taunted. “The invisible outside matches the inside.”

The young man’s fist connected with Grimmjow’s jaw. There was power behind it and the two of them ended up rolling back down the sand dune, crashing and knocking into one another violently on the way down.

The teen laid on the ground, sand in his mouth and hair and ears. He groaned and rubbed his sore neck. He was surprised to find Grimmjow above him, his hand offered in assistance. It was a wonder that Grimmjow looked so clean, let alone that he stood over him. Grimmjow grinned, as if reading the boy’s mind, “Cats always land on their feet.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Grimmjow only smiled, “Sure ya do.”

“I know I said I hate humans, and it’s true, but believe it or not, humans really, really love me…” Grimmjow admitted. “I can coax better than anyone.” Grimmjow sighed. “You do know what coaxing is right?”

“Yes.” The teen replied irritably, taking Grimmjow’s offered hand. “I know how to collect souls.”

“That’s what I was talking about. What’s your quota? How many souls does your Master want?” Grimmjow asked, brushing off his sandy hands.

“He doesn’t care.” The teen decided. “He’s never said. And he’s pretty specific when it matters to him.”

“How much do you usually collect?”

The young man thought for a moment before responding, “Usually 20 or 30 a month.”

Grimmjow sputtered in shock, “A month?”

“Why? Is that pathetic too?”

Grimmjow shook his head in disbelief, “No. That’s… that’s insane. He can walk around whenever, can’t he? That’s… That’s just so much…”

“He’s really strong.” The teen dismissed with a shrug. “He uses a lot. And it’s easy to get.”

“Wow.” Grimmjow thought he might need to sit down. “You need to stop that.”

“What? Why?” the younger Shifter demanded. “It’s the only damn thing I do right.”

“Because you’re fucking yourself over,” Grimmjow replied. “Every soul you collect for him gives him one day to… well… materialize and walk around just like we do. If you’re giving him so many, he can walk around damn well anytime he pleases…”

“At least if he’s walking around I can’t feel him in _here_ ,” the boy insisted, running his hands down his chest. “I hate it. Sometimes I can’t even hear myself think.”

“Huh,” Grimmjow murmured curiously. “My Master never did that. Maybe we can contact the Council. I’m sure one of them will have some answers.”

This time the teen called him on it, “ _We_?”

“Walk.” Grimmjow demanded, shaking his head in irritation. “Damn you’re annoying.”

The boy walked but he didn’t have to look happy about it. He made sure to show Grimmjow his most pitiful looks. Grimmjow simply laughed, “Whatever, little piggy. I’m just making lunch walk itself. It’s called smarts.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” the younger man began unsurely. “Did you really eat my legs or was that some sort of hallucination?”

Grimmjow’s face fell into a crooked smirk, “That probably should’ve been your first question.”


	3. Burden

** Part III:  Burden **

_“I feel my heart ache, but I've forgotten what that feeling means.”_

-Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

* * *

 

“You care to explain what the hell that was back there?” Grimmjow demanded in frustration.

“It was nothing.”

Grimmjow closed his eyes, “I just carried you over thirty miles for nothing?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you. Try again.”

“I get sick.” The young man admitted finally. “Heatstroke, the best I can figure.”

“Well it’s a damn good thing you’re in Egypt then, huh?” Grimmjow snapped.

They walked in silence through the town until the boy broke it, “Egyptians don’t wear enough clothes.”

Grimmjow chuckled, wriggling his eyebrows at the row of standing beauties they passed. “Nah, I like it. It’s too hot for all those layers you Mesopotamians wear.”

The teen considered Grimmjow’s answer for a moment before replying, “My father always said cover up what you don’t want sunburned.”

“That’s a good point,” Grimmjow conceded with a nod. “Your skin burns easily, no doubt, poor little piggy.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“One name is as good as another…” Grimmjow teased, slipping past a woman who was wholeheartedly propositioning herself to him.

“You could pick a name for me.” The teen suggested.

“Look at me,” Grimmjow commanded, waiting until the younger Shifter obeyed. “I won’t. Some orders are not worth obeying.”

“You’re the one offended by my lack of a name.”

“Damn right I am.” Grimmjow barked, hooking his hand around the boy’s collar to steer him through the shuffling crowd. “Even slaves have names.” He pulled the slighter man against him, eyeing him pointedly. “What’s below a slave? Livestock.”

“The flies keep biting me.”

“They know you’re a little piggy.”

“They must.”

Grimmjow pinched the teen’s arm sharply, drawing blood. “Don’t be an idiot. Only I’m allowed to call you a piggy.”

The boy sighed heavily, “I’m walking the other way.”

“You haven’t yet.”

The young man smiled, his handsome face lighting up brilliantly, “Bye, Grimmjow.”

To Grimmjow’s surprise the other man stopped in the busy walkway. He turned against the flow of traffic and disappeared into the bustling crowd. Grimmjow frowned deeply before shouting loudly, “Yeah? Well good riddance!”

The teen dashed through the crowds and into the alleyways. He kept his hand pressed to the wall, walking until he came to a dead end. He looked around at the emptiness and felt a chill wash over him.

_“That didn’t take long, for him to get tired of you…”_

The teen pressed his back against a wall, his head sinking into his hands. “Damn it…”

_“It’s strange how flimsy a connection ‘one of your own kind’ can be.”_ The boy sat wordlessly, his own thoughts overpowered by the slow, cutting voice of his Master. _“Such pathetic creatures, all of you.”_

_“I hate it… I hate it… I hate watching you insects crawling about…”_

“I’m sorry, Master.” And then he was alone again. He breathed in deeply, his head swimming from all the excitement of the two weeks.

“You got lost didn’t you?” The teen looked up in surprise. He was not expecting Grimmjow to be standing there and speaking to him. “That’s why you shouldn’t wander off on your own.”

“I did it on purpose.”

Grimmjow smiled good-naturedly, “Did ya now?”

“Why’d you follow me? You just managed to get rid of me.”

Grimmjow hesitated before speaking, “You’ve forgotten your name, haven’t you?”

The boy looked up sharply but then his face softened as if he might cry. Grimmjow nodded knowingly. “I lost something like that too, when I first learned how to coax. I thought it might be the case. Either that or your name was something terrible…”

“Worse than Grimmjow? Impossible.” The boy teased.

“He asked you to pick your favorite memory and then, like that, it was gone. Sound familiar?” Grimmjow continued, patiently ignoring the slight.

The teen nodded. “Yeah.”

“We can fix it. Well, actually, rather I know what can fix it…” Grimmjow said with a smile.

“There’s that ‘we’ again…”

Grimmjow didn’t miss a beat, “That’s because you can’t do shit without me.”

“What can be done?” The young man asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“It’s not going to be easy.” Grimmjow warned eagerly.

“What ever is?”

“It will be dangerous. And strenuous. And you will beg for the end…” Grimmjow continued.

“What is it? A journey? How far?”

“Sexual intercourse.” Grimmjow said simply. “It works every time.”

“I hate you.”

“Awwww, don’t turn me down so quickly. I mean it. It really might work…” Grimmjow whined.

“I hate you.” the teen repeated. “So much.” He stood up and walked past the Shifter with a snarl.

“Fine. There _is_ another way.” Grimmjow called after him. “But it involves lots and lots of walking. I mean walking until you puke.”

“Are you teasing me again?” the boy called out in reply.

“No.” Grimmjow replied with an innocent smile. “Not this time.”

“Did you get your memory back?”

Grimmjow was quiet for a moment before answering, “In the end I left it forgotten.”

“What? Why?” the Shifter demanded in shock.

Grimmjow’s smile faded fast. He licked his lips before answering, “That’s a big question for a nameless little pig.”

* * *

 

“Why do you do that?” Grimmjow asked, refilling his goatskin water vessel. 

“Do what?” The boy asked unsurely.

“Leave your mouth open all the time. It drives me crazy. It’s just gonna dry your mouth out faster.” Grimmjow chastised. “Water is a luxury in the above.”

“The above?” The younger man asked, making a face.

“I meant here. Oh, shut up.” Grimmjow sat on the dusty ground with a sigh. “Fill up your water.”

“I will.” The teen replied. “I’m just cooling off some first.”

“You look like-” Grimmjow trailed off with a smile. “Ah, never mind. Ten minute break.” He stripped naked before sliding into the river.

“You’re going to be eaten by crocodiles. We’re too far from the city; this part of the river belongs to them.”

“No I won’t.” Grimmjow breathed out, backstroking on the unusually obedient water. “The floods just ended. Their bellies are full.” He treaded water in place. “You should get in. It’s nice and cool.”

“I thought cats didn’t like water?” the boy mused, crinkling his nose playfully.

“Jaguars love water.”

“I thought you were a panther?”

“A panther can either be a Jaguar or a Leopard… I… Why the hell do you care?”

The other Shifter had already stripped. He was thin, definitely underfed, but there was still evidence of an athletic build.  He walked down the bank and into the river.  He was a strong swimmer for all his complaining. “Now isn’t that better?”

“I’ll peel the leeches off your back if you get mine.” The young man teased.

Grimmjow shuddered, “That’s just nasty.”

“We can’t stay here long,” Grimmjow reminded them both.

“I guess I’m not in any rush, if you wanna stay. I’ve got at least a hundred years.”

Grimmjow frowned. “You can ruin anything with your personality.”

“How so?” the other man snapped.

“You’ve gotta have a damn name.” Grimmjow spat.

The other Shifter made a face. “So are we getting out?”

“Ten minutes isn’t up yet.” Grimmjow replied. “It just feels like an eternity when we’re together.”

“So where are we going anyway?” the Shifter asked, swimming toward Grimmjow with interest.

“Ever been to Assyria?” Grimmjow asked with a smirk.

The other Shifter sighed heavily. “That’s too far to walk…”

“Well we’re going even further, through Memphis, Phoenicia, Syria, Babylon, Assur and even further yet.”

“I give us two months before we’re captured by some nomadic tribe and forced into slavery.”

Grimmjow sneered, “You can tell you’re used to a privileged life. The son of a doctor, how wonderful.”

The younger man sighed, “Never mind. We’ll kill each other by the time a week rolls around.”

“Is your memory valuable? Ya want it back? Don’t ya think it’s worth the risk?” Grimmjow questioned impatiently.

“Yours wasn’t.”

Grimmjow licked his lips, his jaw jutting forward in agitation. “Oink oink.”

“I’m sorr-”

“Oink oink.”

“I’m gonna dry off.” The shifter announced, swimming to the bank of the river. He turned, feeling Grimmjow’s eyes burning into him. He climbed out of the river, feeling self-conscious about his nakedness, and then feeling stupid for his self-consciousness. “What are you looking at? Is there a giant leech on my back?”

“Just looking.” Grimmjow replied with a shrug, but he didn’t look away. “You’re leech free.”

The shifter plucked his clothes from the ground, shaking them free. He held his clothes in his arms, his gaze meeting Grimmjow’s. “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Grimmjow was caught off guard by the genuine apology; he shrugged it off, swimming toward the bank. “I’m ancient. You’re just a kid, just starting out. I should work on my patience.”

“How old _are_ you?” the shifter asked, his chocolate brown eyes searching Grimmjow’s.

“I don’t know.” Grimmjow admitted with a laugh. “We haven’t always been good at writing things down…”

“How old… is your body then?” the teen asked nervously, a blush staining his cheeks.

Grimmjow puffed his lips noisily. “Shit, I don’t know. 25? How old do I look?”

“Well, you only look around twelve when you’re wet, kitty kat.” The shifter teased with a smile.

“Twelve?” Grimmjow repeated the word in playful despair. “Your words cut, little piggy.”

“I’m not a pig.” The shifter growled, running his hands through his drying orange hair.

“Who knows? Maybe when you turn all invisible you get a curly little tail.” Grimmjow teased. “You don’t have one now though.”

They dressed in silence, side by side. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but the other shifter could feel Grimmjow’s gaze still following him. He cleared his throat and turned, his arms crossing over his chest, “Alright. What?”

“What what?” Grimmjow asked, shrugging a muscled shoulder into his shirt.

“What are you looking for?” the young shifter asked.

Grimmjow chewed on his lip before responding, “Your eyes change, did you know?”

The teen made a face, “I wouldn’t know. I can’t exactly see them, can I?”

Grimmjow ignored the mocking tone, “They’re brown now, and that’s your color. When you exert yourself they’re different, I don’t know, they’re kinda orange, like that damn hair of yours. And then they turn green.”

“Green?” the shifter made a skeptical face.

“I don’t think I’m always looking at _you_.” Grimmjow breathed out. “You’re not always you.”

“I told you,” the shifter murmured. “There’s someone else inside me.”

“Your Master.” Grimmjow stated.

“Yeah.”

Grimmjow cleared his throat, “Who’s your Master, kid?”

The shifter’s shoulders sank down in defeat, “He doesn’t like me to say it.”

“Kid,” Grimmjow began. “What’s the worst he can do? He needs you.”

“No,” the shifter refused flatly. “You’ve no idea.”

“I’m the same as you. I understand. I promise…” Grimmjow stressed, instantly regretting his pathetic-sounding choice of words. “I have a Master too. He has many names, but for a while now he’s gone by Aizen.”

“Aizen.” The shifter’s eyes widened with recognition. “My Master speaks about him.”

“Oh yeah? What about ‘im?” Grimmjow asked curiously.

“My Master works for your Master or did, I guess…” the shifter trailed off unsurely. “They fought together in some great war.”

“Your Master likes to talk.” Grimmjow realized with a hopeful smirk.

The other shifter shrugged, “He likes to tell me how awful I am. Sometimes while doing so he mentions himself and his greatness…”

“Come on, walk and talk, kid.” Grimmjow snapped impatiently, gesturing with his hand. “Let’s get a move on.”

“Ah, okay,” the shifter nodded, following Grimmjow obediently.

“Hey, kid, just so ya know,” Grimmjow said quietly. “All of my orders are optional. You always have a choice.”

The shifter smiled brightly, and it truly made him beautiful, “Thank you. But you still have to listen to me and do as I say…”

Grimmjow considered his options carefully before turning around and leaping on the other shifter. Grimmjow crashed into the slender man, knocking him into the grassy shrubbery. The younger shifter let out a growl, his hands tightening around Grimmjow’s shoulders. Grimmjow grabbed the shifter’s wrists, pinning them down at his sides. He leaned over the teen and smirked from ear to ear in triumph. “The thing about immortality, Shifters, and all that is this: If I can kick your ass now, I can kick your ass forever. So watch it, pig.”

“You’re wrong.” The shifter panted, struggling to free himself. “I’ll beat you.”

“And how will you manage that?” Grimmjow snarled, knocking his knee into the shifter’s stomach just hard enough to make a point.

“Because you haven’t seen what I can do.” The shifter declared, nodding for effect.

Grimmjow smiled in amusement, trailing his finger over the teen’s gently sloping nose, “You can’t beat me without a name.”

“I’ll get one.”

Grimmjow’s smile widened, “I like you.”

The young man’s face twisted in shock, “What?”

“I like you.” Grimmjow repeated with a shrug. “Why’s that so weird? You’re not as awful as all that.”

“Get off me.” The shifter demanded, shaking his arms pointedly. “You’re heavy.”

Grimmjow rolled off of the teen and climbed to his feet. “Aren’t ya gonna say you like me too.”

The shifter made a face, his brown eyes meeting Grimmjow’s, “Don’t ask for the impossible.”

* * *

 

The shifter stretched his arms over his head, his peachy skin darkening beneath the sun, “So where’re you from?”

“Oh no,” Grimmjow drawled. “We don’t play that game.”

The shifter sighed, scanning the endless landscape of sand and brush. “What games do we play then?”

“Bored?” Grimmjow asked, arching a frosty-blue brow.

“Aren’t you?”

Grimmjow shrugged, “This sure as hell beats being back in the pyramid.”

“What happened there anyway?” the shifter asked.

“Mummy’s Curse, best I can figure…”

The younger shifter smiled and shook his head in amusement, “Mummy’s Curse or Treasure Hunter’s Idiocy?”

“I don’t know about ‘idiocy’, but maybe ‘greed’ and a lack of planning…” Grimmjow admitted with a frown.  Grimmjow shrugged. “But I’d rather die than waste time making plans.”

The teen scoffed, “Why?”

“Have you ever made a fool-proof plan before? Where everything went off without a hitch? And everything ended perfectly, all loose ends tucked away?” Grimmjow asked.

“Probably not.”

“Me neither.” Grimmjow finished.

“It’s so hot,” the younger shifter complained, squatting suddenly. He ran his hands over his neck and through his hair, his mouth hanging open in exhaustion. “Damn it. Why couldn’t we just bring the camels?”

“I have a sensitive nose… I’m not carrying you.” Grimmjow barked. “Walk it out.”

“I… I’ll catch up,” the teen called out, his throat audibly dry and irritated.

“Shut your damn mouth, kid.” Grimmjow shouted, walking backwards. “You’re drying out like a fucking prune. You should learn to ration your water better…”

“Ah, okay…” the shifter nodded, his eyes shutting against the bright, blinding sun. He adjusted his clothing, removing the sash from around his neck and dropping it into the sand. Better to be sunburned than die of a heatstroke.

“And besides, as shifters, we can make the journey three times faster on foot than on camels. Those camels wouldn’t make it to Assyria. I suppose I could just eat them once they’ve outlived their usefulness, but I don’t like to eat captive animals. Where’s the sport in that?” Grimmjow explained quickly, turning around and walking proper.

A gentle breeze whipped around him. He sighed contentedly, tying his shirt around his waist. The sun beat down on his beautiful bronze skin but not one drop of sweat rolled across his skin. “And since you like to complain, I’ll have you know I’m a snow panther. There isn’t even such a thing in nature, _that I’m aware of_ … But if a snow panther, like me, can make it through the desert without bitchin’ then Mr. Invisible Pig can too.”

“No reaction?” Grimmjow groaned. “That’s disap- Shit!” Grimmjow turned and bolted across the sand back to where the teen lie unconscious in the sand. “What the fuck?! Hey, hey! Hey, kid! Wake up!”

Grimmjow cursed, looking around helplessly. He checked the younger shifter for any sign of trauma but found nothing. With a furious roar he lifted the teen into his arms and slung his unconscious body over his shoulder. “Fuck! You piss me off!” He slugged his fist into the other man’s side angrily. “Wake up and fight me!”

The other shifter didn’t wake. Grimmjow fumed, retracing his steps back across the sand. “I said I wasn’t gonna carry you…”

_“Again? You fucking useless, foul, worthless piece of shit!”_

Grimmjow froze, every muscle felt as if it were on ice. He swallowed thickly, turning his head to the side. He held his breath as the shifter began to slide off his shoulder, slowly, gradually, to his feet. The shifter staggered unnaturally, as if his own body was not quite under his control. The shifter took a step backward and then another forward, again and again as he fought to stabilize.

Grimmjow inhaled shakily before licking his lips, “Hey, kid?”

_“Don’t speak unless spoken to, Slave.”_  The shifter said, the words were strong but the delivery lacked passion. The shifter looked up, two brilliantly green orbs glowing his in eye sockets. “ _You’re all so fucking useless…”_

“Who are you?” Grimmjow asked boldly. The shifter, or perhaps Master, turned to look at him. Empty green eyes searched him up and down. The shifter’s mouth opened to speak and Grimmjow rushed to interject, “I’m one of Aizen’s shifters.”

_“Aizen?”_  the shifter’s face was slack and expressionless, dead, Grimmjow realized in horror. It was impossible to read his lifeless expression, but Grimmjow considered the information to have worked in his favor as the shifter stumbled forward, lifting a hand weakly up and over his head. _“Slave, find us shade…”_

Grimmjow looked around at the vast, unending desert. “What shade?”

The shifter, or Master, didn’t take kindly to the lazy and uncreative question. The corpse lifted his hand, crushing his fingers dramatically down into a fist. Grimmjow coughed, blood spraying from his throat and past his lips. He coughed violently, dropping to his knees. He gasped grabbing at his chest in absolute agony. The corpse released his fist and the pain dissolved immediately.

“ _You’re so pathetic… Dying like this…”_ the corpse began to mumble to himself. _“You’re a burden to everyone around you…”_

Grimmjow climbed to his feet. He rubbed his chest uneasily before wiping the blood from his mouth. He looked around helplessly a moment before he could begin to think again. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He nodded to himself, steeling himself for what he was about to do.

His skin prickled as he walked up to the shifter, or Master, or corpse, he didn’t know. He grabbed the other man, lifting him into his arms. _“You dare to touch…?”_ he began to deride.

“I’m just taking you to some shade,” Grimmjow explained, hoisting the shifter against his chest. He began to walk, trying to look anywhere but at those soulless eyes. He walked faster, blocking out the incessant chanting of the _other_ voice, until he was running. He bolted across the burning sands and over dune after dune. His lungs burned by the time they reached the small little scatterings of rock. “There. A cave.”

_“A cave… Yes… That’s what I wanted.”_ The shifter replied as Grimmjow lowered him to the ground. The shifter stepped forward, collapsing immediately. Grimmjow’s first reaction was to offer assistance, but he pulled his hand away in disgust. The thought of once again touching or interacting with that Master was too revolting.

The shifter squirmed along the ground, clawing his way over the rocks and into the mouth of the cave. He pushed himself into a sitting position, his back against the rock. His face was mostly in darkness, only two glowing green orbs visible. _“Slave,”_ the corpse murmured, their voices melding together, Master and his Shifter. _“We cannot travel during the heat of the day.”_

Grimmjow nodded wordlessly, the hair on the back of his neck and arms standing up. “Uh huh. Okay.”

The green eyes closed and Grimmjow felt the chill slipping from his bones. He was nearly panting, standing at the mouth of the cave in front of the shifter’s unconscious form. He closed his eyes, willing his hands to stop shaking. A million thoughts whirred through his mind. He had to act fast. He had to make a decision.

The shifter stirred before blinking awake. He looked around the cave in confusion before finding one of the goatskin bags of water. It was Grimmjow’s, he had finished both of his earlier that day. He stood up slowly, grabbing the water and drinking a rancid mouthful down. “Grimmjow?”

The young shifter stood and climbed down the rocky slope back into the sand. He followed Grimmjow’s tracks to the top of the hill. There he lifted his arm, shielding his eyes from the sun as he surveyed the infinite desert.  “Grimmjow?”

The teen swallowed, a small pit of dread growing in his stomach. He rubbed his eyes, the sun and sand were blinding, before searching again. He looked to the north, and then to the west before turning south and then east. He licked his lips nervously, the sun’s heat causing his bottom lip to crack yet again. “Grimmjow!”

_“He left you…”_

The shifter furrowed his brow.

_“You’ve no idea where to go…”_

The teen’s breathing hitched. He tried to slow it down but it was increasingly difficult. He clutched at his throat and chest. It felt like ice and fire inside of him.

_“You’ve no idea what to do.”_

The young shifter sank down into the sand. He couldn’t breathe. He gasped loudly, curling into a protective ball on the ground.

_“And you can’t stay alive on your own… Useless pig…”_

“Stop!” the shifter shouted, beating his fists against the earth.

_“He left you here to die…”_

“Don’t be so damn dramatic,” Grimmjow growled.

The shifter looked up with a wet, sand-covered face. He opened his mouth in shock, unsure of what to say or how to say it. He sat up on his knees and wiped at his face hurriedly. “I thought you left?”

“Nah.” Grimmjow smirked, dangling a rabbit from his claws. “I just thought you might be hungry when ya woke up.”


	4. Lost

** Part IV: Lost **

_“Every name is real. That's the nature of names.”_  
-Jerry Spinelli, Stargirl

* * *

 

“We’ll sleep during the day,” Grimmjow explained. “We’ll hunt at sunset and walk until the heat of mid-day settles in. And then over again.” Grimmjow chewed before adding, “We’ll need to be getting a tent.”

The shifter nodded wordlessly from his perch by the fire. He cooked his share of the meat by himself since Grimmjow preferred his raw. He cleared his throat and turned his skewer over to roast the other side. “So what happened?”

“Did you have some sort of illness?” Grimmjow asked around a mouthful of bloody flesh. “Like before you signed your contract?”

“No.” The shifter shook his head.

Grimmjow frowned in thought, “So why are you so damn weak?”

“Maybe the air doesn’t agree with me?” the shifter suggested with a shrug.

“You keep dying because _the air doesn’t agree with you_?!”

The teen made a face, “I don’t know, Grimmjow.”

“Oooh…” Grimmjow drawled excitedly, snatching a lizard out from under a rock. “Snack.”

“There sure are a lot of them out.” The shifter noted, pulling his food from the flames of the campfire.

“They come out later in the day and into the night. Like clockwork actually…” Grimmjow explained, tearing into his meal. “It’s too… hot… for them…” Grimmjow sat up excitedly, pointing at the other shifter wildly.

“What?”

Grimmjow burst into laughter, grabbing his head as if it ached, “Holy shit!”

“What’s so funny?” the other shifter asked, an unsure smile twisting his lips.

“You’re a damn lizard!” Grimmjow announced, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it took me so long…”

“I’m… a lizard?” the teen look horrified.

“You’re coldblooded. That’s why the heat affects you more than me. And you turn invisible... because…” Grimmjow paused in thought, his chewing slowing. “It’s just supernaturally charged camouflage!”

The young man smiled happily, “You think so?”

“Fuck yeah, I do,” Grimmjow verified. “Everything makes sense now.”

“A lizard…” the boy murmured to himself, as if the word held something powerful for him.

Grimmjow smiled, he couldn’t help himself, “It’s not as cool as a cat, but a lizard is pretty cool too.”

“Does the Master pick the animal?” the teen wondered aloud. “Because if he did, he shouldn’t get so mad at me…”

“Wanna know a secret?” Grimmjow asked, tearing the lizard into two.

“What?”

“The Masters learn as they go too.” Grimmjow said softly. “They’ve got no idea what’s going on either.”

“Why do you say that?”

Grimmjow cleared his throat quickly, “Aizen, my fucking Master, hadn’t been making shifters for very long when he changed me.”

“So you’re one of the first?”

Grimmjow hesitated, “I’m one of the first _successful_ attempts.”

“And why did he make you?”

Grimmjow frowned, his hand dropping to his belly, “Think of yourself as a walking, talking treasure box. Because that’s what you are.”

The boy began to chew on his dinner, his gaze drifting to the ground. “We should probably get moving soon.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

 

The younger shifter sat at the far table quietly. He watched Grimmjow from across the room. The older shifter was truthful when he said humans loved him. Grimmjow stood in the center of the tavern, his wine held above his head in a wavering hand, a dazzling grin on his handsome face. He chatted loudly, his confident and husky voice reaching all ears.

He moved along with his words, reciting a grand story of adventure and treasure. No one seemed to notice, or perhaps mind, that his eyes sparkled, his teeth, inhuman and predatory, pricked out the sides of his mouth. He even laughed at his own punchlines along with the crowd.

The teen smiled despite himself. Only Grimmjow could be so confident and unruffled whilst making a fool of himself. As Grimmjow neared the end of his tale, the shifter stood, presenting a wicker basket. He walked amongst the humans, waving the basket in front of their _sometimes_ generous hands.

Grimmjow finished with a flourish and a bow. He downed his drink and slammed the empty goblet on the table beside him. He threw his arm around the young shifter and upon seeing the donations in the basket announced that the next round was on him.

The teen sighed in frustration, “But why?”

“Why not?” Grimmjow asked, his breath heavy with drink.

“We are in need of supplies…”

“I’ll buy you your damn supplies,” Grimmjow replied with a pout. “Let me have some fun. All we do is walk, walk, walk. So much fucking walking…”

“Because we have a destination…” the shifter reminded him, his lips pursed together.

“Nah, you got a destination,” Grimmjow slurred. “I got a fucking problem.”

The young man nodded curtly before sliding out from under Grimmjow’s arm. He flashed him a warning look before shoving the basket into his stomach. “Not anymore.”

Grimmjow rolled his neck dramatically before snapping his head up, “Ah. Fuck. Wha’did I do now?”

The teen walked up the stairs of the tavern and straight to their small, rented room. It smelled like onions and dust and was no bigger than six feet by six feet. He sat on the floor, his back pressed to the wall. He imagined it to be like sitting in a tomb. “I’m not waiting for him,” the shifter told the empty room, just in case.

“Shhhh…” Grimmjow half-whispered, half-chuckled, as the door swung open hours later. “The kid’s asleep…”

The teen blinked awake sleepily from his spot on the floor. Grimmjow and another stepped into the room. The scent of wine drowned out Grimmjow’s natural, honeyed scent. They kissed against the shut door, Grimmjow’s hands fumbling with ties and knots of cloth. “Is here okay?”

“It’s fine,” Grimmjow assured. “He sleeps like the dead.”

The teen swallowed heavily, his heart pounding in his ears. He closed his eyes, trying to remember how to breathe normally. There was a strange sound. The shifter had no idea what could make such a sound. He opened one eye curiously, his cheeks filled with heat.

He didn’t try to look, honestly. But when he did look over there was so much skin. Each peek was skin on skin, legs entwined, or pushed to the side, too afraid to look up an inch farther. There was another noise, and when curiosity got the best of him, he turned his head to the side and opened his eyes.

Their eyes met, both glowing in the darkness, green and blue. Grimmjow cursed, his hands immediately situating himself back into his pants. The _other_ let out a confused sort of whine and Grimmjow began to profusely apologize, his arm wrapping around his lover and pushing them both outside into the hallway.

The young shifter sat on the floor in dumbstruck confusion. He didn’t mean to pry. They woke him up. Was Grimmjow mad at him for looking? A million different thoughts raced through the teen’s mind. And then, _“What did he want that human for?”_

The shifter laughed suddenly, realizing the absurdity _and normalcy_ of the situation, “He wanted sex.”

_“There’s no chance of procreation with two males.”_

The young man smiled, “It was just for fun.”

_“You’re no good for that?”_ the Master asked genuinely.

“I guess not.” The teen replied in amusement.

_“Does he think we cannot meet his needs better than a human?”_

The shifter cringed at the word ‘we’. He shook his head and shrugged, “I’m not offended.”

The Master was silent for a long while before fading away. The teen decided not to worry about the ill-omen that had just surfaced and instead went back to sleep.

* * *

 

“I think you’ve got a fan,” the teen teased as they packed.

“Oh, yeah? What? You mean the guy from last night?” Grimmjow asked, looking anywhere but at the other shifter.

“My Master.” The shifter said with a laugh. “You shocked him.”

“It’s not funny.” Grimmjow snapped. “That shit gives me the creeps.”

“You’d think he’d never seen someone have sex before.” The teen chuckled. “I almost felt sorry for him.”

“Will you shut up?” Grimmjow hissed. “I don’t even wanna think about it. Now I’ve got a headache. Less talking, more packing.”

“It’s your own fault,” the shifter continued. “You shouldn’t have come back to the room in the first place.”

“Listen to me,” Grimmjow breathed out quietly, his hand twisting the younger man’s arm up and above his head, pinning him to the wall. He leaned in closely, his voice low and dangerous, “I’ll do as please, when and where I please…” The smile faded from the teen’s face replaced with a grimace. “And if you don’t like how I do something, you’re free to fuck right off.”

“You’re hurting me.”

Grimmjow released the shifter’s wrist but kept his ground, forcing the young man to stay against the wall. “Next time he’s watching me, close your eyes. Got it?”

“How am I supposed to fucking know?” the teen asked, his voice cracking.

Grimmjow shook his head vaguely, “If you can’t control your own body then I’ll pluck out your eyes…” The shifter was silent. “Got it?” The shifter still said nothing. Grimmjow snarled, his hand smashing through the wood next to the shifter’s head, “I asked if you fucking got it?!”

“Are you scared of me?” the shifter asked, a peculiar smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Grimmjow was enraged. He swung his fist around, tearing the wooden wall to pieces. He cursed, every word, every language imaginable. His fist stopped less than an inch from the shifter’s cheek. Grimmjow’s entire hand shook angrily. “Tell me why I should stop.”

“I never asked you to.” The shifter replied bending down and sliding out from under Grimmjow. He slinked along the wall past the larger man until he had space to move. He stood in the center of the room coolly and continued packing his bag of supplies.

Grimmjow cursed, rubbing his face with his hands. “You’re wrong.”

The shifter slung his pack over his shoulder and opened the door. “If you say so.”

* * *

 

“So why exactly are we going so far?” The shifter asked, breaking two night’s worth of silence.

“We’re looking for someone.” Grimmjow explained.

“Who?”

“You probably should’ve asked these questions before agreeing to do it.” Grimmjow sighed.

“It didn’t matter then.” The teen replied with a shrug.

Grimmjow was quiet for a moment before deciding to answer, “We’re going to the Council. Well, one shifter in particular, really.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter. He won’t see you without me.” Grimmjow said, eyeing the shifter.

“Are you really still mad at me?” The boy asked, stopping abruptly in Grimmjow’s path.

“Nah.” Grimmjow answered.

“That’s not very convincing.” The shifter sighed.

Grimmjow placed his hand on the teen’s shoulder, scooting him out of the way before starting to walk again, “I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” the teen whined in surrender. “I can’t take the silence. Damn it. Just please, talk to me. I don’t care what you say. Call me a little piggie, I don’t care…”

“You’re a lizard. Why the hell would I call you a pig?” Grimmjow asked. “Little lizard doesn’t have the same ring to it.” Grimmjow looked at the shifter, watching him. “You need your damn name back.”

“Well that’s why we’re walking like this.”

Grimmjow nodded. “Ya know, I think we’ll buy some horses in Assur.”

“Really?” the shifter looked up hopefully.

“But you owe me. I fucking hate riding anything. Feels like I’m squishing my fucking nuts.”

The teen laughed, “Sounds like a problem.”

“I’m well-endowed. What can I say?”

“Sure. Of course you are.” The shifter snickered, walking ahead.

“Hey! What’s that mean?” Grimmjow called after him, jogging to catch up. “Wanna see?”

* * *

 

“Something’s burning.” The shifter realized, catching a spark in his hand.

They climbed the hill in silence. Smoke billowed into the sky. The ash drifted on the wind, collecting like snow in their hair and lashes and on their clothes. Grimmjow inhaled deeply and then snorted, rubbing his nose in discomfort.

“It’s coming from the valley.” The boy understood at last. They hurried down the sloping ground and into the village. The smoke was so thick it choked the oxygen from the air and sight from their eyes.

“Wait!” Grimmjow reached for the young shifter too late, his fingers scraping against the other’s arm.

The teen stopped in his tracks as the cloud of smoke dispersed and an enormous quarry of bodies came into view. Men, women, children, the ditch was filled to the top with all of them. Bloodied, tattered, violated corpses tossed into a mass grave. The shifter took a step back, his hand covering his mouth in shock, “Oh.”

“Don’t look if it bothers you.” Grimmjow breathed out, his arm wrapping around the teen protectively. He turned subconsciously, his face burrowing into Grimmjow’s chest.

The overwhelming stench of burning hair and human flesh finally sank in. The shifter coughed, choking on the putrid air. Grimmjow moved him quickly and carefully away from the corpse-filled quarry, past the rows of burning homes, and clear to the other side of the village.

“Stay here.” Grimmjow commanded, placing the shifter against the bark of an old tree. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” the shifter asked, his brown eyes widening with concern.

“I’ll be right back.” Grimmjow repeated gently before slipping away.

Grimmjow jogged through the village, making his way back toward the rotting pit of bodies. He kneeled beside it, searching the corpse on top. There was no visible injury to the young boy. Grimmjow continued, searching the next corpse in interest. Again, nothing. He found a man, strong and able during his life, once again the man was unharmed.

Each person was covered with blood. Their bodies were ruined beyond repair. But this mass death was not an attack on a peaceful village, but rather a scorch stain by death itself. Grimmjow rubbed his hands over his pants in disgust. “Poor fuckers.”

The young shifter smiled with relief upon Grimmjow’s return. “You’re back.”

“Yeah.” Grimmjow nodded, tossing the shifter a fresh cask of water.

“Ah, thank you!”

“Yeah well, it’s not like we can catch it.” Grimmjow reasoned, fastening his freshened goatskin bags of water to his pack

“Catch what?” the shifter asked, looking up in surprise.

“Whatever plague took this village.” Grimmjow answered.

“Plague?” the shifter turned, peering back at the smoke-filled village.

“The survivors buried the dead best they could and set everything on fire.” Grimmjow explained. “What a nasty way to die.” Grimmjow nodded for them to continue. “We should try to avoid humans for a few days. We don’t want to spread it.”

* * *

 

“You’re lost.” The shifter accused.

“No… I’m not.” Grimmjow replied exhaustedly. “It’s not an exact place… Therefore I can’t be lost.”

“You never mentioned coming here.” The shifter pressed.

“Coming where? This looks exactly like every other place? Don’t it?” Grimmjow groaned.

“I know my own homeland.” The teen declared, crossing his arms over his chest.

Grimmjow was silent for a minute before pulling out his worn map. “Okay, I might be a little lost.”

“We’re in Mesopotamia.”

“Well, yeah, I’m pretty sure I mentioned that in the list of places I named…” Grimmjow defended quickly.

“You did mention Assur, more than once…” the young shifter conceded with a nod. “But we’re too far North _and East_ for that.”

“That’s the ‘little lost’ part.” Grimmjow finished with smirk.

“You have to be the most frustrating man in history.”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, “That’s only because nameless children don’t make history.”

“I’ll never have a name again if you don’t figure this out.” The teen chastised.

“Relax.” Grimmjow groaned. “I’m helping you out of the kindness of my heart. You owe me patience.”

“You’d still be in that chamber if I hadn’t come along.” The young man pointed out, smiling slyly.

“Well don’t look so pleased with yourself.” Grimmjow drawled.  

“If anything, I’m your hero.” The teen realized, throwing his arms up and crossing them behind his head.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, lizard boy.”

“Mr. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.” The two shifters halted immediately in the blocked pathway.

Grimmjow stepped forward, eyeing the broad, cloaked stranger curiously, “Yeah?”

“You’re lost.” The man said, pushing the cloak down to his shoulders. His warm smile reached his grey eyes.

“Urahara.” Grimmjow realized, stepping forward and offering his hand in greeting. He grinned as they shook hands. “How are ya, ya bastard? I’ve been looking for you…”

“Ah, hello again, firm handshake as always,” the blonde man said, looking from Grimmjow to the young shifter pointedly. “I’m well. I’m well. Never better. Who’s the very attractive young man right here?”

“How’d you find me?” Grimmjow asked.

Urahara made an amused face, fanning himself, “Please. I’m a shifter as well, ya know.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. You’ll always be a kid to me.” Grimmjow reasoned, smiling indulgently.

“So, handsome kid with the carrot colored hair… Who is he?” Urahara pressed.

“Him? Who knows?”

The teen blushed as Urahara took his hand in greeting. “You’re absolutely adorable. I’m Kisuke Urahara.”

“I’m…” the teen began, immediately feeling like an idiot.

“The suspense is killing me…” Urahara drawled, looking from one shifter to the other. “Are we shy?”

“He’s forgotten his name.” Grimmjow explained, realizing that the teen wasn’t going to offer the information himself. “It was coaxed from him.” Urahara frowned. His demeanor grew solemn. He chewed on his lip, deep in thought. “I was hoping you might be able to help...again…”

Urahara looked as if he might refuse before suddenly smiling, “It will be difficult, maybe impossible. But I _am_ a genius.”

“This is the guy?” the shifter asked, wide eyed.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Grimmjow said with a laugh. “He don’t look like much, but he’s actually pretty capable.”

“Such kind words for an old friend,” Urahara drawled.

“I appreciate it.” The shifter said. “Even if it doesn’t work. It means a lot.”

“Oh now. Don’t get all emotional. I’d do nearly anything for a pretty face.” Urahara teased. “Follow me, gentlemen.”

“Where are we going?” the teen asked, dashing to catch up to Urahara.

“The palace.” Urahara answered, disappearing through the trees.

“A palace?”

“It’s where the Council lives.” Urahara explained. “It’s carved from ice and bone. Words can’t do it justice. You’ll just have to see.”

“One day, when you’re out of your contract, maybe you can live there too.” Grimmjow added with an encouraging smile.

“Oh, we’d love to have you.” Urahara hummed merrily. “You’d be such a beautiful addition.”

“Knock it off.” Grimmjow snapped. “You’re weirdin’ ‘im out.”

“Ah, sorry, sorry, Mr.” Urahara murmured, never slowing his rapid pace.

“Nah, I don’t really mind.” The shifter replied, feeling warmth in his face. “I think you’re the only one who thinks so. Even if you are only kidding…”

“That can’t be.” Urahara gasped exaggeratedly, covering his mouth in dismay. “You need to surround yourself with better people.”

“Are you sayin’ I ain’t good people?” Grimmjow barked.

“If the crown fits, wear it.” Urahara returned playfully.

“Why are we running?” Grimmjow wondered aloud.

“No one should be without a name!” Urahara declared. “This matter can’t wait.”

“It can, a little…” Grimmjow complained. “We just walked here from Egypt.”

“Oh, how dreadful!” Urahara drawled, pausing abruptly to clasp the young shifter’s hands. “Can cats not ride horses?”

“Shut the hell up.” Grimmjow barked.

“I think he can get up fine, but when it’s time to get down he panics. You know, cat in a tree type thing…” the teen teased, enjoying the warmth from Urahara’s large hands.

“You got jokes.” Grimmjow nodded, his jaw held tightly. “That’s cool.”

“We’re here.” Urahara announced when he spun around. “This is it.”

“The tree?” the teen murmured unsurely.

“Here, I’ll show you,” Grimmjow spoke quietly.  He stepped forward, his hand punching into the knot of the tree. The trunk creaked and groaned as the bark swung backward, just like a door. Grimmjow flashed the teen a smile before stepping through. “Just like this.”


	5. Here for a Memory

** Part V: Here for a Memory **

_“Forgetfulness is a form of freedom.”_

― Khalil Gibran

* * *

 

“Your turn,” Urahara cooed as Grimmjow disappeared into the void of the tree.

The shifter hesitated, “Does it hurt?”

There was a ripple of movement in front of him and Grimmjow reemerged. His face twisted impatiently as he reached for the teen’s arm, “You’ll just have to find out.”

“Ah, be kind to him, Mr. Jaegerjaquez.” Urahara moaned, watching the two of them with interest. “The poor thing’s still under contract.”

“I know that.” Grimmjow snarled, his hand folding gently over the shifter’s wrist, despite his words. He pulled the teen closer, his blue eyes burning into his. “It ain’t gonna hurt unless I make it hurt.”

“Oh? What does that even mean?” Urahara drawled, covering his face as he spoke.

“It’s just a door. Are you ‘fraid of doors?” Grimmjow barked.

The teen smiled, a mix of irritation and amusement, “You’re holding me in place. I can’t go through…”

Grimmjow relinquished his grip on the young man with a sheepish smile, “Follow me.”

“Aye, aye,” the teen breathed out, stepping through the makeshift door and into the tree.   
The shifter was surprised for his feet to meet stone. He followed Grimmjow down the stone steps, Urahara and the door behind.

“Who built this place?” The shifter asked curiously.

“The Warden.” Urahara announced, grinning widely.

“Ah…” the boy replied. “And, uh, who is that?”

“Well, the Warden is the most powerful creature on Earth. He built this place and now he guards the prison below.” Urahara explained.

“What’s the Warden like?” the teen murmured quietly to Grimmjow.

Grimmjow shrugged, “Don’t know. Haven’t met ‘em.”

“So one person built this by himself?” the shifter asked, his hand trailing along the jewel-encrusted wall.

“Well, mostly,” Urahara conceded. “It was made long before we came along, but I have been told there were a few Masters who helped build it.”

“Why does the Council live in a prison?”

“Ah, well, you see, we live _above_ the prison…” Urahara corrected. “That makes a difference.”

“Is that a diamond?” Grimmjow asked, coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. He peered at the wall, scratching over the stone with his nail. “Wow. That’s a huge ass diamond…”

“You are correct.” Urahara chimed, walking around the teen and in front of Grimmjow. “It sparkles so… Now, look here. Right here. Pay attention… Good…”

“Ahem,” Urahara cleared his throat for dramatic effect. “We must be quiet.”

“Why?” Grimmjow asked, straightening up defensively.

“Because if anyone hears us,” Urahara whispered. “They’ll want to keep him all to themselves. They’ll probably invite ya both to dinner. It will be a huge event. And I’d rather avoid that until we get his name all sorted, yeah?”

“Okay,” the teen nodded, a smile twisting up the corners of his mouth.

“Damn. I thought you were being serious.” Grimmjow muttered.

“I was being serious.” Urahara replied with wide eyes. “Ms. Unohana can be downright terrifying with her love.”

“There’s women shifters too?” the teen asked curiously, following behind Urahara obediently.

“Only one.” Grimmjow answered. “And she’s kinda old.”

“She’s not old old…” Urahara shrugged noncommittally.

“Too old to be hot, too young to be my grandma.” Grimmjow added with a smirk.

“No one’s old enough to be your grandma…” Urahara mumbled into his fist.

“I heard that.”

“Such astute hearing, my liege. You’ve only improved with age…” Urahara teased, turning down hall after hall in a confusing maze of hallways.

“Why aren’t there more women shifters?” the young shifter asked.

Both men were silent long enough for the teen to realize they had no idea. But Urahara spoke next, “I think it has something to do with them.”

“How so?”

“There are no female Masters.” Grimmjow answered.

“How do you know?” the teen questioned.

Grimmjow snorted, “My Master told me.”

“Like at all?” the shifter asked, realizing the impossibility of a creature having no female of the specie.

“Not at all.” Grimmjow clarified. “Ma-, Aizen’s biggest, most raw weakness is that that pisses him off.” Grimmjow cleared his throat loudly. “I’m pretty sure that’s where his hatred of humans comes from. Them breeding like fucking rabbits…”

They walked in silence until they came to a large wooden door. Urahara opened the heavy door alone, ushering them inside. He lit a candle and then another, “Welcome to my home.”

“You live here?” the shifter asked, already busy looking around the cluttered room. He eyed the fizzing glass vials with morbid curiosity. “What is the place?”

“A place for alchemy, potions, and other magical sciences…” Urahara announced. “Or most simply, this is my bedchamber.”

“Wow.” Grimmjow breathed. “How come I never got a room like this when I was here?”

“That’s because we only discovered these rooms a hundred years ago.” Urahara explained. “The Warden doesn’t give tours.”

“It’s kinda cold here.” The shifter breathed into his hands, a shiver running down his spine.

“Ya get used to it.” Urahara replied, eyeing the teen. “So take a seat. Anywhere that’s open. Watch the glass…”

The teen sat down on the only clean chair in the room. Every other surface was brimming with stacks of books or vials of glass. He watched Urahara with interest as the man hurried to and fro across his room. “Ah-ha!” Urahara cheered, pulling a vase of water down from a shelf. “Found it.”

Urahara used a dropper, collecting water carefully. He dropped a single droplet into a steaming purple fluid. The fluid smoked, Urahara pushing the vial away from his face. “Don’t worry… You look worried…”

“Fuck! I’m worried.” Grimmjow spat, sitting on the arm of the shifter’s chair. “Don’t kill ‘im. It’s a fucking hassle with him.”

“Oh? How so?” Urahara asked curiously, a pale brow arched.

“It’s nothing.” The shifter replied dismissively.

“And one drop of this,” Urahara mumbled to himself. “And some honey to help the taste.”

“You done yet?” Grimmjow asked, his voice rumbling.

“Almost. Don’t rush me.” Urahara replied, pouring an electric blue potion into a new vial. “And done.”

“Drink this.” Urahara  instructed, handing the vial to the shifter with a self-satisfactory smile.

“Okay.” The shifter replied. He sniffed the potion and withdrew in disgust.

“The honey doesn’t really help. It’s best if you do it all in one go.” Grimmjow advised.

“Okay.” The shifter agreed, nodding his head. “Here it goes.”

The teen tilted his head back, the vial held against his lips. He could feel the ice-cold, gelatinous potion against his tongue. It was a disgusting texture, but the taste was truly vomit-inducing. “Don’t lose it!” Urahara gasped. “That’s too valuable to waste!”

The teen nodded, his eyes watering as he fought to keep everything from spewing onto the floor. With a loud swish he finally managed to swallow the potion down. He gasped for air, or perhaps relief, his hands clutching at the fabric of his pants.

“Here,” Grimmjow offered, passing his goatskin bag of water. “Drink some.”

The shifter drank greedily, wishing he could scrape his tongue clean, “Thanks.”

“Did it work?” Grimmjow asked impatiently, his eyes never leaving the teen’s face.

“Give it a minute.” Urahara beamed proudly. “It took you two days to wake up. This process takes time.”

“Two days? Wh-” The shifter’s words died in his throat. His head rolled forward, his body slackening. He would have collapsed to the floor if not for Grimmjow catching him.

“Clean your fucking bed off.” Grimmjow ordered, hoisting the unconscious shifter in his arms. “Damn. What are ya? A kid?”

* * *

 

“What the fuck do you want now?” a gruff voice, composed of smoke and ash asked. The shifter looked around the dark cave, his attention captured by the water. “I asked, what the fuck do you want?”

“Are you real?” the teen asked, narrowing his eyes in doubt. “This is a hallucination, right?”

“Who sent you?” the voice barked. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

“Where are you?” the shifter asked, searching the darkness.

There was an impatient, and rather indignant, puff of air. Suddenly an enormous man stepped forward, the smoke crowding him like a veil. “Why are you here, Otherworlder?”

“I’m here for a memory.”

“Whose memory? One of your own? Someone else’s? Just one or many?” the man asked, his startling green eyes landing on the shifter.

“My name.” the shifter called out, feeling more anxious the more he looked at the sprawling hulk of a man.

“And what do you have in exchange?” the man asked, scales spreading across his rugged face. “Or is this charity?”

“I guess it’s charity.” The shifter replied. “I have nothing, let alone anything of value.”

“Don’t be a fuckin’ retard.” The man growled. “I have no use of gold. I deal in memories. If you want to take something I have, you should leave something in its place.”

“You want a memory?” the shifter realized.

The man nodded, a smile snaking its way onto his face, “That’s right.”

“What sort of memory?”

The man shrugged, “It’s not like showing me will make you lose it. Just pick one.”

The shifter thought carefully before stepping forward, “I’m ready.”

The man closed the distance between them. The closer he got the less human he looked. He smiled down at the young shifter who reached forward, clasping his hand in the large man’s. The shifter closed his eyes and projected his thoughts into the other man.

“What are you doing?” the dragon-like man asked, humored.

“I’m thinking about my memory…” the boy explained.

The man laughed and the entire cave trembled. “That’s cute.”

“Am I doing it wrong?” the shifter asked unsurely.

“You’re doing everything wrong. But that’s not my problem.” The dragon-man breathed out, smoke unfurling from his nostrils. “I see what you’re doing, Ulquiorra. I can’t say it’s my style.”

“Ulqu-”

_“You’re reduced to this, Nozarashi?” the Master rattled._

“I ain’t reduced to nothing.” The dragon-man hissed, his eyes narrowed into slits. “And yer in no position to say shit to me.”

_“Do you think your flames can reach me in here? Or would it just destroy the human?”_

“I wouldn’t know.” The dragon-man, Nozarashi, breathed out. “I don’t need a damn shield. Why don’t you come out here and fight me?” Silence. The dragon-man smiled, flames licking out from behind his teeth. “Very well.”

“I’m sorry.” The teen spoke up.

The dragon-man licked his lips slowly, “For what?”

“…Bringing him with me.” The shifter responded quietly.

Nozarashi laughed again, the stone shaking from the force, “Bring him back any time, Otherworlder. I’d be happy to tear him apart for you.”

“Are you a Master?” the teen asked curiously.

“No.” Nozarashi refused flatly. “That’s just a name that our sadistic Kyoka Suigetsu came up with.”

“What are you?”

Nozarashi paused, “Dead and forgotten.”

“What is this place?”

“I’ve got what I wanted,” Nozarashi said with a nod of his head, ignoring the question. “Let me return the favor.”

_“Boy! Leave your sisters be!”_

_The boy, no more than seven or eight, pouted furiously. He watched the twin girls splashing in the water out of spite. “But they’re going to get sick.”_

_“Girls, mind your brother!” the father shouted. “I have work to do,” the father sighed, turning back to his son. “Go tend your mother.”_

_“Yes, sir.” The boy answered, dashing back toward their house._

_He slid his shoes off and shuffled across the floor to the screen. He pushed it aside, flashing his mother a happy grin. “I’m back.”_

_“Did you catch any frogs?”_

_“I did.” The boy nodded. “But Yuzu cried until I let them go.”_

_“You’re a sweet boy to your sister.”_

_“She’s a baby.” The boy replied curtly, sitting beside his mother. “I don’t have a choice.”_

_“You always have a choice.” His mother corrected gently. “The right one isn’t always so easy. You’re a good boy_ by choice.”

“ _Cause Dad would kick my ass if I wasn’t…” the boy shuddered at the thought._

_“He wouldn’t…” his mother chuckled. “He loves you.”_

_“Not as much as he loves Karin and Yuzu.” The boy muttered._

_“That’s not true,” his mother said in a warning tone._

_“Okay, well, not as much as you do,” the boy amended._

_“My handsome boy,” his mother breathed, her hand caressing his. “Come closer.”_

_The child obeyed willingly. He scooted across the floor on his knees until their bodies were touching at the side. “Mother?”_

_“I just wanted to see your face.” His mother admitted, smoothing her cold hand over his warm cheek. “I love you so much.”_

_“I love you too.” The boy returned breathlessly._

_“But one day, I dare say far too soon,” his mother said with a knowing smile. “Someone will come along and take your heart. And you will claim to have never before known such love…”_

_The boy openly scoffed, “I’ll always love you best.”_

_“Good answer.” His mother breathed out. “But don’t you dare say that to your wife.”_

_“Alright…Mother?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“I won’t ever leave you.”_

_His mother laughed softly, “You don’t have to.”_

_“That’s not what Dad says…” the boy grumbled._

_“Be patient with your father.” His mother scolded gently. “He’s a good man. Besides, you’re actually his favorite. And don’t tell your sisters I said that…”_

_“But-”_

_“Ic” His mother was struck by a fit of violent coughs. Her entire frame shook, blood spraying into her hands._

_“Should I get Father?” the boy questioned nervously._

_His mother smiled kindly as she recovered, “No. Let him work.”_

_The boy nodded, curling beside his mother, resting his head in the crook of her arm. “I’ll be a doctor like him some day,” the boy declared proudly. “And I’ll make you all better.”_

_“I know.” His mother replied with a nod. “So work hard.”_

_“I will.” The boy agreed with a toothless smile. “I’ve got a family to protect.”_

_His mother laughed gently, her hand smoothing down his unruly orange hair, “That’s who you are.” She sighed contentedly, her fingers playing with her son’s hair. She kissed the top of his head affectionately. “My little Ichigo. My little protector.”_

* * *

 

The shifter sat up abruptly. He panicked momentarily as he found himself in a strange bed, in a strange room, with two strange men staring at him in open-mouthed surprise. He threw the blankets off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was halfway through the door before he realized where he was and who he was with.

“Ichigo!” the shifter shouted.

“What?” Grimmjow asked, rushing over to the teen, his head shaking in confusion.

“It’s only been…” Urahara murmured, looking toward the clock. “Twenty minutes.”

“My name’s Ichigo Kurosaki.” The shifter blurted excitedly, his hands clasping over Grimmjow’s. “I remember now. I remember who I am.”

“Ichi-go?” Grimmjow breathed out, trying the new word out on his tongue.

“Ichigo Kurosaki.” The shifter repeated, shaking Grimmjow’s hand in greeting.

“Ah, I’m Kisuke Urahara,” Urahara announced, shaking Ichigo’s hand quickly. “And you are…?”

“Ichigo Kurosaki.” The shifter beamed.

“Ichigo…” Grimmjow murmured again.

“It feels so surreal. I can’t believe I forgot.”

“Congratulations. We should celebrate.” Urahara suggested. “A feast for our new friend, Mr. Kurosaki.”

“Ichigo…” Grimmjow recited, as if mesmerized.

“Come on, Mr. Kurosaki, let’s go meet the others,” Urahara announced, herding the two shifters toward the door. “I know they’ll just adore you.”

Several minutes, and hallways, later they stood in front of a small group of shifters. They greeted Grimmjow excitedly, looking toward Ichigo with furtive glances. “Our King has returned…”

“Ah, I’m hardly a King…” Grimmjow mumbled in embarrassment.

“And he brought a friend.” Urahara continued. “This is Ichigo Kurosaki. Ichigo, on your left we have Mr. Yamamoto, Ms. Unohana, Mr. Hirako, watch out for him, he’s a total ass…”

“Clever.” The blonde replied, flashing an even, toothy smile.

“Right there is Mr. Aegeus, Mr. Thrace, Mr. Potious, Mr. Xie, Mr. Le, Mr. Yu,” Urahara continued around the room in introduction. “And last but not least, our dear and special friend Mr. Komamura.”

“Hello, Ichigo,” Komamura spoke above the welcoming murmur of the others. He was a handsome man but for some reason he sat there in a state of half-transformation, his features melded with that of a wolf.

“Hello.” Ichigo replied shyly. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“You’re still under contract,” Komamura announced, nodding his head in thought.

The others fell silent, “Yes. I have another 98 years left.”

“Oh, Grimmjow,” Unohana breathed out. “He’s just a baby.”

“Wow.” The man called Hirako muttered. “It’s rare to see a shifter still in their first life.”

“He says that,” Grimmjow retorted. “But he’s only two hundred and forty something.”

“Yer jus’ jealous ‘cause I’m young and beautiful.” Hirako returned.

“Well you _are_ young.” Grimmjow teased.

“We prefer to live outside of the reach of Masters, but you can stay until you are ready to go,” Yamamoto decided. “Tonight we’ll have a feast.”

“Thank you,” Ichigo nodded gratefully.

“Who’s your Master?” Komamura asked, standing. He towered well above Ichigo. He circled the young shifter, studying him with interest.

Ichigo hesitated slightly before answering, “Ulquiorra.”

Komamura snorted, pushing his sandy blonde hair behind his ear, “Murcielago.”

“What?” Ichigo asked unsurely.

“Nothing.” Komamura replied, shaking his head dismissively. “I was speaking to myself.”

“Komamura is the reason I was able to help you,” Urahara explained, leaning against the larger man with a smile. “He’s the one who provided the rarer ingredients.”

“Well thank you,” Ichigo said with a bow. “I’m grateful.”

“What did your Master promise you?” Komamura asked suddenly, clasping his hand over Ichigo’s slender shoulder. There was unbelievable strength in that grip. “What would Ulquiorra offer to a human?”

Ichigo took a step back, “You’re not a shifter, are you?”

“No. I’m not.” Komamura admitted. “Answer the question.”

“I wanted to see my mother again,” Ichigo breathed out, feeling his throat constrict.

“What’s wrong?” Hirako asked, eyeing Komamura and Ichigo’s exchange curiously. “I’ve never seen ya so damn worked up.”

“I want you to meet someone.” Komamura said, ignoring Hirako’s question. He grabbed Ichigo around the arm to lead him. “He needs to see you now.”

“What? Why?” Grimmjow asked. “Wait a damn minute.”

“I’m taking him to the Warden.” Komamura explained impatiently. “It’s important.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” Ichigo asked, shrinking away from the large man.

“Then you won’t go.” Grimmjow interjected, cracking his knuckles.

“This is important.” Komamura barked, his fangs protruding from his mouth.

“I’ll decide what’s important.” Grimmjow snarled.

“On what authority?” Komamura demanded, releasing Ichigo and facing Grimmjow in challenge.

“You might be a Master,” Grimmjow breathed out. “But I’m stronger than you are. And you know it.”

“That’s enough.” Yamamoto shouted, banging his walking stick against the ground. “Komamura is an important guest. We wouldn’t have survived this long without him or you… So please… Get along…”

“I’m not going to hurt the shifter,” Komamura explained hastily. “But this is important.”

“He’ll only go if he wants to.” Yamamoto declared.

“He doesn’t want to.” Grimmjow snapped.

“Let him speak for himself.” Urahara chastised.

Ichigo considered his options. Meeting the most powerful creature on Earth, venturing down to some sort of prison, it didn’t sound like a smart choice. “I don’t wanna go right now.”

“Look, it’s for your own good,” Komamura whispered, his eyes locking with Ichigo’s. “Please.”

“Why don’t we eat first,” Unohana suggested. “They’ve had a long journey and I’m sure they’re exhausted and quite a bit hungry.”

“Agreed.” Yamamoto added.

“No harm will come to you,” Komamura pressed, his handsome face twisting with regret. “I’m sorry if I’ve frightened you…”

“Fuck off, Wolf-boy,” Grimmjow spat. “You’re ruining my good mood.”

“Let’s eat.” Hirako called out. “You can sit by me.”

“Oh, no.” Urahara cried out in distress. “I wanted him to sit by me!”

“He has two sides,” Hirako returned with a grin.

“He’ll sit where he damn well wants to fucking sit.” Grimmjow bristled. “Get outta of his face.”

“It’s okay,” Ichigo assured the other. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Feel free to just smack us if we’re bothering you,” Urahara teased, “Except Hirako. He likes that sort of thing.”

“Terribly.” Hirako grinned.

“Stay away from that guy,” Grimmjow murmured. “Actually, stay away from both of them. They’re man-eaters.”

“More so than a panther?” Ichigo asked, missing the point.

Grimmjow laughed loudly, “Oh yeah.”


	6. Winding Hallways

** Part VI: Winding Hallways **

_“I hate this place.”_

Ichigo’s hand faltered on his way to his mouth. He spilled the wine down his chin and onto his shirt.

_“It’s noisy.”_

_“And smelly…”_

_“And full of worthless, vile pigs…”_

Ichigo looked around nervously, afraid that everyone could hear his Master’s hateful diatribe. Everyone seemed to be deep in conversation, enjoying the plentiful food and fine drink. Ichigo set his drink down before wiping his face clean with a cloth. “Be quiet.”

_“Tenken doesn’t like you.”_

“Who?” Ichigo whispered, disguising his conversation behind a roll of bread.

_“Komamura.”_

“So?”

_“The Warden will chop us up into tiny, little bits.”_ Ichigo chewed in silence. _“If we stay here, they’ll torture us. You pathetic, little pig. You never cease to disappoint me.”_

_“Maybe I should rip you open now and save the Warden the trouble. Maybe I should gut you slowly. Let you bleed and sweat and cry and plead for it to stop…”_

“What’s wrong, kid?” Hirako asked, an apple held against his teeth. He bit down firmly, the sweet, juicy apple crunching loudly. “Ain’t it delicious?”

“It is.” Ichigo agreed with a nod, stuffing the rest of the roll into his mouth.

“Enjoy it now,” Urahara murmured. “When you’re older your tastes will change. You won’t be able to eat anything you used to love.”

“Really?” Ichigo asked curiously.

“Your tastes will change for sure,” Unohana confirmed, nodding toward Grimmjow’s plate of bloody, uncooked flesh.

“I’m not lookin’ forward ta it.” Hirako sighed, chewing on his apple.

“I’d say you’re halfway there.” Urahara teased.

“With proper diligence,” Yamamoto boomed. “You can enjoy any food as you age.”

“I don’t have no ‘proper diligence’…” Grimmjow drawled with a smirk.

“Or you’re just really old.” Ichigo pointed out.

“I’m over two thousand years old.” Grimmjow replied.

“Really?” Ichigo’s eyes widened in shock.

“Don’t ever trust this guy’s math.” Komamura said suddenly. “He’s been saying he’s over two thousand years old since we met.”

“Well, I am.” Grimmjow replied.

“He ain’t wrong.” Hirako blurted with a laugh. He chuckled to himself, dropping his apple to the side. “But he ain’t right either.”

“So I’m no good with numbers!” Grimmjow snapped defensively. “Quit laughin’, Horse-face.”

_“Eat up. Fill your belly, pig. We’re leaving soon.”_

“Hmm?” Urahara asked, leaning closer to better hear. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Ichigo insisted, reaching for the wine.

“Thirsty?” Hirako questioned, watching the young shifter guzzling down his drink.

“Yeah,” he replied simply. “Parched.”

* * *

 

“Hey, I was wondering where you went,” Grimmjow slurred, throwing his arm around Ichigo’s shoulder. “They were looking for you earlier.”

“Just thought I’d look around a bit.” Ichigo replied. “What did they want me for?”

“Komamura wanted to tell you that the Warden was too busy with something and he wanted you to reconsider later… Or something…” Grimmjow explained lazily.

“Was that the entire message?” Ichigo asked with a sigh.

Grimmjow smiled, “Mostly.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“Guess what?” Grimmjow’s face lit up in excitement.

“What?”

“They just gave me my own room.” Grimmjow answered. “I live in a fucking castle.”

“You lived in a pyramid for a while too,” Ichigo teased. “You sure do live up to your adventurer title.”

“Shut up and come look at my room… or bedchamber…. Yeah, bedchamber…” Grimmjow chattered excitedly. “Come to my bedchamber, Ichigo…”

Ichigo looked at Grimmjow pointedly, “Ah, yeah. Well if you word it like, I’m not coming.”

Grimmjow made a face, “Oh please. You look like that. I think you’re safe.” Ichigo blinked in surprise, any response dying in his throat. Ichigo stepped away from Grimmjow, shaking free of the other’s arm. Grimmjow’s face fell, “Ah, wait. That came out wrong…”

“Did it?” Ichigo asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“A bit.” Grimmjow admitted with a sheepish grin.

“It doesn’t matter.” Ichigo said dismissively. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“But it bothers _him_ ,” Grimmjow whispered, leaning in closely. “Doesn’t it?”

Ichigo shrank away from Grimmjow, rubbing his ear as if that might erase the words spoken. Ichigo’s face reddened, his hands curling into fists, “Shut up.”

“Ulquiorra thinks pretty highly of himself, don’t he?” Grimmjow pressed, stepping toward Ichigo. His hand brushed across the young shifter’s cheek. “It must just boil him up that you’re the one people see.”

“What are you doing?” Ichigo demanded, pushing Grimmjow’s hand away.

“I don’t like when he watches me.” Grimmjow murmured, his breath hot on Ichigo’s face. “I want to know why.”

“Why it bothers you? Or why he does it?” Ichigo asked, his skin prickling.

“The second one.” Grimmjow confirmed. He smoothed his hands over Ichigo’s unruly hair. “What… does… he…want?” Grimmjow purred, his hands trailing down Ichigo’s neck and down his back.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Close your eyes.” Grimmjow breathed.

Ichigo obeyed, his eyes fluttering closed. Grimmjow took a deep breath and then his lips were on Ichigo’s. Grimmjow kissed the younger shifter deeply, pulling his bottom lip between his. Ichigo’s eyes snapped open, his hand wrapping around Grimmjow’s throat. Within seconds the blue-haired shifter was against the opposite wall. “ _Don’t…”_

“Is that…” Grimmjow gasped, prying at the hand against his throat. “You… or him… talking?”

“Both.” Ichigo growled, releasing his hold and spinning around. He charged down the hall, not caring if he didn’t know the way. He zigzagged through the palace, doubling  back at times just to be able to keep moving.

_“Did he kiss me? Did that slave actually dare to kiss me?”_

“He was kissing me.” Ichigo growled. “And making fun of us both.”

_“Nothing that slave does can bother me. He means too little. Is he stupid?”_

“Yes. I’d say he is.” Ichigo huffed, turning around as he hit another dead end.

_“Don’t let it confuse you… You mean nothing… It was a bit of morbid curiosity… Like watching someone die slowly…”_

“I know.” Ichigo replied, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. “I know. I know.”

_“You’re speaking too much.”_

Ichigo stumbled, reaching out for the walls to steady himself. He cried out, blood pouring from his mouth. His scream of agony devolved into a stream of pitiful gurgles, blood and spit foaming profusely from his mouth. He opened his mouth and spit, his severed tongue falling to the floor with a sickly thud.

Ichigo snarled in absolute vexation. He straightened up and turned, punching the wall over and over until his knuckles bleed. He felt the familiar weight return to his mouth and he closed his eyes, sighing in resignation, _“Filthy pig.”_

“I’m sorry, Master.” Ichigo chewed out the words bitterly.

_“Leave this place.”_

“How? Where do I go?” Ichigo questioned impatiently.

_“It doesn’t matter to me. If you don’t leave this place, I will take control and I will…”_ Ichigo nodded wordlessly. He started walking again, winding through the labyrinthine palace with only one goal, to get out.

“Now who’s lost?” Grimmjow taunted as Ichigo rounded the corner.

“Fuck,” Ichigo sighed, rubbing at the stitch in his side. He had thought earlier that he caught Grimmjow’s sweet scent. “Where’d you come from?”

“I live here.” Grimmjow replied with a smirk.

“How’d you find me?” Ichigo demanded. “I can’t even find me!”

“Why’re you running all over the place?” Grimmjow asked, ignoring the question.

“I’m leaving.” Ichigo admitted, walking past Grimmjow.

“Cause you’re mad at me?” Grimmjow asked gleefully, chasing after the young shifter.

Ichigo made a face, “Hardly. You’re not that special.”

“Why then?”

“My Master wants to leave.” Ichigo answered.

“Because I kissed you?” Grimmjow asked.

“Don’t say that out loud.” Ichigo snapped.

“Is it because I kissed you?” Grimmjow repeated in a whisper.

“Thank you for helping me here. I couldn’t have made it without you. I wouldn’t have even known what to do. Really, truly, thank you, Grimmjow.” Ichigo confessed suddenly. “That said, I’m going to fucking kill you if you keep following me.”

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Grimmjow asked, shaking his head.

“Goodbye, Grimmjow.” Ichigo said with finality, turning around and walking back the other way.

“Okay.” Grimmjow called after him. “But if you want out of here just let me know. I’ll come save you.”

Ichigo walked around for hours, hopelessly lost in the palace. He tried to retrace his steps back to the dining hall or Urahara’s bedchamber. Anywhere. But he saw no sign of anyone else or anything but a maze of hallways. “Fuck! This isn’t possible!” Ichigo groaned, walking past the same corner he’d marked three times already.

_“You’re too stupid to live.”_

“I don’t understand,” Ichigo sobbed, dropping into a crouch in frustration. He covered his head with his arms, trying to steady his breathing. “This just isn’t possible. I can’t be this lost…”

_“You’re trash like all the other humans.”_

“Help me,” Ichigo groaned. “You can figure it out, can’t you?”

“Did you just ask for help?” Grimmjow asked, walking around the corner.

“Wha? How? Tha-That’s not possible. Where did you come from?” Ichigo stammered, pointing at Grimmjow in shock.

“Didja ask for help?” Grimmjow repeated with a devilish smirk.

“No!” Ichigo stood, lunging forward and grabbing Grimmjow by the shirt. “I don’t believe for one second that I’m this lost and you aren’t…”

Grimmjow laughed. “If you want my help, I’ll help you.”

“Aghhhh!” Ichigo shouted, the veins in his neck throbbing. “Damn it!”

“Is that a yes?” Grimmjow asked, arching a brow.

“Yes! Help me. I just want to get out of here.” Ichigo conceded.

“What do you say then…?” Grimmjow drawled. “When you need something from someone…?”

Ichigo’s mouth opened in shock before twisting in anger. “You can just go and die for all I care!” Ichigo pushed Grimmjow into the wall and raised his hand to punch. But as Ichigo’s fist tore through the air and through the wall, Grimmjow was already gone.

“Alright, alright. That was too far. My bad…” Grimmjow muttered, raising his hands apologetically. “The answer was please, by the way”

He snapped his fingers and suddenly the hallway disappeared. They were standing outside, beneath a large tree. The sun was beginning to set beyond the rocky hills. Ichigo breathed in the fresh air, turning in a stunned circle. “What is this? Where are we?”

“If I tell you, you can’t get mad at me…” Grimmjow drawled guiltily.

“What?”

“I’ll tell you, if you promise you won’t get mad at me…” Grimmjow repeated, even more slowly.

“Well…” Ichigo began, feeling absolutely confused.

“Promise.”

“Okay. I won’t get mad.” Ichigo groaned, rolling his eyes.

“We’ve been outside for over two hours.” Grimmjow explained. “I was using my power to keep you thinking you were in that maze. I was just waiting until you realized you needed me…”

“You mean…” Ichigo cried out. “That that was all fake? The winding hallways. And the claw-marked sections and everything?”

“Yeah. All fake.” Grimmjow confirmed with a nod. “You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would.”

“Why?” Ichigo asked. “Just why?”

Grimmjow shrugged, as if he had no care in the world, “Just being helpful.”

“And how is that helpful?!” Ichigo yelled.

“You’re not alone for one.” Grimmjow pointed out with a self-satisfied smile.

“Oh my God.” Ichigo realized. “You’re insane. You’re actually insane.”

“Probably,” Grimmjow retorted. Ichigo shook his head and started walking, Grimmjow following behind. It would be three weeks before Ichigo would speak again.

* * *

 

“Take it.” Grimmjow barked, tossing the slimy, wriggling fish to Ichigo.

Ichigo nearly dropped the fish before clutching it tightly against his chest. “What’s this for?”

“You’re hungry, aren’t ya?” Grimmjow asked, tearing into the uncooked, and still living, fish.

“I don’t need your help.” Ichigo snapped.

Grimmjow laughed loudly and unnaturally, “Sure.”

“I don’t.”

“I could always teach ya to do it yourself.” Grimmjow suggested. “I won’t be around forever.”

“You can stop following me anytime.” Ichigo barked, carrying the fish back toward the campfire.

“You know the second I leave you’re gonna miss me.” Grimmjow breathed out, wiping the gore from his face.

“I just don’t think that’s possible.” Ichigo sighed, shaking his head. He skewered the fish with a long stick, holding it over the flames. “Let’s try.”

“You’re going to learn to fish when you’re done.” Grimmjow decided. “Eat quickly.”

“I can fish.” Ichigo retorted. “Thank you.”

“Nah, I meant well. You’re going to learn to fish _well_ …”

Ichigo turned, his eyes flashing dangerously, “Shut up.”

“It’s not my fault you picked him, Ulquiorra.” Grimmjow murmured, rolling his shoulders. “That’s why you shouldn’t recruit children.”

“Don’t talk to him.” Ichigo growled.

“Why not? He talks to me, talks about me…” Grimmjow trailed off with a grin.

“Because it’s weird!” Ichigo explained, shaking his head.

“Relax.” Grimmjow sighed. “You’re too skittish.”

“I don’t think I’m the problem here, Grimmjow.”

“You might be, bastard.” Grimmjow purred.

“You’d fight with a dead man.” Ichigo accused, removing his fish from the fire.

Grimmjow laughed boisterously, “Hell yeah. I mean, you’re not exactly living are you?”

“I’m not dead.” Ichigo shot back.

“I’d say we’re in that very uncomfortable space between.” Grimmjow reasoned.

“I didn’t take you for the philosophical type.”

“I ain’t.” Grimmjow said simply.  Ichigo chewed on his fish, the meat falling from the thin bones. He finished quickly, wanting more. “Ready to learn how to fish?”

“The sooner we start the sooner you’ll leave me be.” Ichigo decided, standing up.

“That’s the spirit.” Grimmjow stripped, leaving his clothes by the campfire. He walked naked, his bronze skin glistening in the sun. He gestured for Ichigo to follow, a smirk spreading across his handsome face.

“Does being naked help catch the fish?” Ichigo asked, walking into the river.

“Nah. But then I don’t have to walk around with wet pants chaffing my nuts all day long.” Grimmjow pointed out, wriggling his brows. Ichigo cursed under his breath, shaking his head. “Age and experience, Ichigo.”

“Alright. Watch and learn!” Grimmjow announced, sharp claws bursting from the tips of his fingers. “ _This_ is how you fish.”

* * *

 

“I’m tired of sleeping on the ground.” Grimmjow declared, taking the road on the left. “We’re finding an inn.”

“Okay.” Ichigo murmured, too exhausted to disagree, even if he’d wanted to.

“And I’m tired of fucking walking.” Grimmjow added.

“Yeah.” Ichigo agreed.

“And I need some wine.” Grimmjow continued. “I’m tired of drinking fish piss.”

“Can we stay here for a while?” Ichigo asked hopefully.

“We really should keep moving. It’s dangerous to stay in one spot.” Grimmjow explained, flashing Ichigo a sympathetic smile.

“How so?” Ichigo questioned. “Humans can’t be that bad. You’re so strong…”

Grimmjow knew Ichigo was purposefully stroking his ego, but it still worked, “Alright. We can stay a few weeks, _if_ we like it here, but no longer.”

“Wonderful.” Ichigo murmured, nodding his head in approval. “How much further do we have to go?”

“Close your eyes,” Grimmjow instructed. “And breathe in. Can you smell that? Can you feel it?”

Ichigo was silent for a moment before responding, “Yes.”

“Trust your instincts.” Grimmjow encouraged. “You’re not a human anymore. You’re so much better.”

“I can smell humans…” Ichigo realized after a few moments of concentration.

“Yeah.” Grimmjow nodded in affirmation. “There’s a town up ahead, pretty big one, most likely.”

“Wow.” Ichigo breathed out, finally opening his eyes. “That’s amazing.”

“You need to meet other Shifters.” Grimmjow suggested. “You’d be amazed at what they can do. There’s so many different ways to do the job.”

“I didn’t really get a chance at the Council.” Ichigo replied.

“That’s fine.” Grimmjow shrugged. “Those guys are out of their contracts anyway. You need someone in their first life, someone who knows what they’re doing though…”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, then?” Ichigo asked.

“Not at all.” Grimmjow confirmed with a chuckle. “But I don’t think your Master does either.”

“I’m not sure how to feel when you say that.” Ichigo replied.

Grimmjow shrugged, “It’s his fault. If I were a Master, I wouldn’t pick the son of a doctor.”

“And why not?”

“Those born into privilege aren’t the best at serving others.”

“Maybe he wanted someone with more backbone then?”

Grimmjow nodded, his tongue running over his white teeth, “Alright. That’s fair.”

“We’re here.” Ichigo announced, finally catching a glimpse of the town ahead. “Think they have an inn?”

“They’d better.” Grimmjow groaned. “Or I’ll be commandeering someone’s house.”

“Like that hut back in Egypt?” Ichigo asked.

“Yeah.”

“How did you get that place anyway?” Ichigo asked, watching the ground as he leapt over a bit of broken road.

“I killed them.” Grimmjow replied with a smirk.

Ichigo laughed softly, “No. I’m serious. How did you?”

“That wasn’t a joke. I killed them.” Grimmjow explained, his blue eyes following the younger shifter.

Ichigo was at a loss for words. He swallowed his disbelief and sighed heavily. He didn’t even know how to respond to such an admittance.

“Does that make you uncomfortable, Ichi-go?” Grimmjow purred, closing in until they were nearly touching.

Ichigo shrugged it off. “Not really.”

Grimmjow chuckled in amusement, “Ah, come on. Be honest.”

“I don’t care what you do, Grimmjow.” Ichigo replied.

“That’s a good attitude to have.” Grimmjow spoke gruffly. “Because I do whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want.”

“When you’re not trapped in a pyramid.” Ichigo pointed out with an impish smile.

“Are you going to go on about that forever?” Grimmjow asked, cutting his eyes.

“Not forever.” Ichigo said.

“Well, looks like there’s an inn.” Grimmjow sighed, pointing to a small, weathered building just off the road.

_“Looks like it smells.”_

“My sense of smell is impeccable. Don’t complain…” Grimmjow grunted before realizing it was not Ichigo who spoke.

“I don’t care as long as there’s a bed.” Ichigo sighed.

They walked down the road in silence. The town was small but thriving. Children and dogs ran alongside the road, watching the two strangers approach. “Hello, friends.”

“Hello.” Grimmjow replied, nodding to the older man in greeting.

“What brings you to Uruk?”

“Food and shelter.” Grimmjow replied, looking around curiously as he spoke.

“What’s your business?” the older man asked, not impolitely.

“We’re travelers.” Grimmjow said simply.

“We’ve got an inn.” The man said, pointing to the building across the way.

“Two rooms?”

“Just one.” Grimmjow countered, grabbing his black pouch of string.

“But it might be small for strapping men like yourselves.”

Grimmjow’s face split into a grin, “This is my wife. She’s just ugly.”

Ichigo stammered, turning around to face Grimmjow in horror, “What did you just say?”

Grimmjow laughed, throwing his arm around Ichigo’s waist and squeezing tight, “And where can we eat?”

“Lots of vendors in the town.” The old man replied, eyeing Ichigo with doubt.

“Thank you.” Grimmjow said, dipping at the waist.

“What the hell did you say that for?” Ichigo demanded, yanking free of Grimmjow’s grasp.

“I didn’t want to pay for the two of us. Women don’t cost extra.” Grimmjow explained with a smirk.

“But I don’t look like a woman! I’m not dressed like a woman! I don’t talk like a woman!” Ichigo hissed, pushing against Grimmjow irritably.

“Calm down. Calm down…” Grimmjow murmured, trying his best to remain in place. “You sure do act like one.”

Ichigo made a face and then suddenly he disappeared. Grimmjow’s mouth dropped open in surprise before he doubled over, blood spraying from his mouth. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, an agonized groan escaping his lips. “Fuck!”

“Don’t you dare.” Ichigo growled, his invisible fist twisting through the center of Grimmjow’s abdomen.

“Ah, yeah,” Grimmjow muttered weakly, blood spilling over his lips, dripping down his chin. “Sorry.”

Ichigo removed his hand, the blood seemingly floating in the air. Grimmjow gasped, slumping forward before he finally straightened. Ichigo moved around, the dust kicking up from beneath his feet. Grimmjow followed the sound of movement until he was standing in the alley behind the inn. Ichigo reappeared, his jaw set rigidly. He wiped his bloody hand on the inside of his clothes. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Nah. It’s fine.” Grimmjow replied, wiping the blood from his face.

“No, I was wrong.” Ichigo admitted, his brown eyes settling on the ground.

“Yeah, you kinda were…” Grimmjow agreed with an emphatic nod. “I’m glad you’re owning up to it.”

“Oh shut up.” Ichigo groaned, walking around Grimmjow and through the alley back to the main road.

“You say that but you actually adore me, don’t cha?” Grimmjow teased, ushering Ichigo toward the inn.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’d adore you more if we had two rooms.”

Grimmjow made a face, “That’s a waste of money.”

“I thought you were rich?”

Grimmjow laughed, “I’m rich because I’m careful with money…”

“Cheap, you mean.”

Grimmjow scoffed, “That takes some confidence to say, especially to the man who’s currently takin’ care of everythin’ for ya.”

Ichigo shrugged, a smile slipping across his handsome face, “I told you to quit following me.”

“You’re a hopeless case. It’s my duty as your elder.” Grimmjow reasoned.

“Okay, grandpa…” Ichigo murmured, walking to the inn.

“Why you! Say that to my face, bastard!”

Music began to play further into the town. Ichigo and Grimmjow looked up, peering through the crowd into the square. The music was peculiar and honestly rather haunting. Ichigo felt his skin crawl and he scratched his arms as if that would remove the sensation. All around the humans began to gather, entranced by the music that was so unsettling to the shifters.

“Ah, man.” Grimmjow groaned, shaking his head in distaste.

“What is that sound?” Ichigo asked. He was so perturbed by the music that he didn’t even mind Grimmjow’s hand on his arm.

“Fucking Romani.”

“Romani?” Ichigo asked unsurely.

“Gypsies.”

“Ugh!” Ichigo groaned, covering his ears. He couldn’t imagine that the humans were actually enjoying such a troubling sound. “It sounds awful.”

Grimmjow nodded in agreement, directing Ichigo toward the inn more swiftly, “Ya know how the strings work now, right?”

“Yeah. The money?” Ichigo replied.

“That sort of thing doesn’t work on the Roma.” Grimmjow explained quietly, ushering Ichigo further away from the crowd.

“Really?”

“Honestly, no good ever comes from mixing with magical folk.” Grimmjow continued, his eyes scanning the crowd suspiciously.

Ichigo paused, a frown on his face, “Are we in danger?”

“Not exactly, no.” Grimmjow conceded. “At least not yet.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Ichigo asked nervously.

Grimmjow hesitated, “We’re monsters, Ichigo. We can’t exactly broadcast that.”

“I know.” Ichigo replied unsurely.

“Yeah, well, Romani can tell just by looking at us.” Grimmjow sighed. “We don’t wanna run into them.”

“What would they do?”

“I don’t fucking know! They’re humans! They have the gift but they’re still human. And humans are inconsistent and unreliable…” Grimmjow snapped. “We’d do better to stay away from them.”

“Okay.” Ichigo agreed, even if he didn’t really understand.

“Trust me.” Grimmjow said suddenly, his blue eyes meeting Ichigo’s sincerely. “Nothing’s worse than someone who can see exactly who you are.”


	7. Savages and Charlatans

** Part VII: Savages and Charlatans  **

_“We are not savages, but civilized people of another civilization. We are neither superior nor inferior to the rest of humanity.”_

-Sandra Jayat, artist, member of Romani Elders

* * *

“Aren’t we going to find something to eat?” Ichigo asked, folding his legs on the bed beneath him.

“Not now.” Grimmjow replied, waving his hand dismissively.

“But I’m hungry…” Ichigo admitted.

“Not now.” Grimmjow repeated, pacing the small room.

“Do we need to leave?” Ichigo asked, figuring that the question was silly, Grimmjow would laugh it off and the tension would break.

“In the morning.” Grimmjow replied.

Ichigo was shocked, “Really?”

“They’ll be performing all night.” Grimmjow explained. “We’ll have a few short hours around sunrise before they’ll be back on the streets.”

_“You’re afraid of humans?”_

Grimmjow opened his mouth to reply and then realized who had spoken. Grimmjow shrugged, licking his lips, “Even ants in large numbers are dangerous.”

“I don’t think I have it in me to walk again so soon.” Ichigo complained, rubbing his feet. His soles had been grotesquely blistered when he removed his sandals, but they’d already healed. “I’m exhausted.”

“I’m just as tired as you are.” Grimmjow retorted, fighting the urge to remind Ichigo he had carried him oft during their journey.

_“Let me see the humans.”_ Grimmjow looked Ichigo up and down. Ichigo meant to exchange a matching look of concern but it was obvious that Grimmjow was only seeing _him_. Ichigo rubbed his wrist self-consciously. _“The music is so…”_ the Master paused as he searched for the right word. _“Cryptic.”_

“They’re in the town square.” Grimmjow muttered, gesturing toward the door. “Go and have yourself a look.”

_“You will take me.”_

“The fuck I will…” Grimmjow barked, his teeth nearly piercing through his own bottom lip.

_“You will take me.”_

“I will go, Master.” Ichigo interjected, standing.

_“You’re so useless. What if something happens to us?”_

Ichigo made a face, “I can protect myself, Master.”

_“I don’t care about you.”_ The Master said simply. _“Slave, you will take me there.”_

“Fucking Tit.” Grimmjow shouted, kicking out at the bed angrily. “I’m not under contract anymore! I’m not a fucking slave or servant or any other damn thing…”

Ulquiorra and Ichigo were both silent. Grimmjow stared them down, his mouth transformed into fangs, his fingers ending in razor-sharp claws. A bit of smoke-like fog dripped from his mouth and poured from his nose. He waved it away with his hand. “Fine. I’ll take you.”

_“Of course.”_

“But I’m warning you, there’s no telling what could happen.” Grimmjow cautioned. “Don’t pick any fights.”

“Fights?” Ichigo repeated the word curiously, following after Grimmjow.

“Exactly that. Don’t pick any fights.” Grimmjow barked.

“I wasn’t gonna.” Ichigo pointed out, nearly jogging to keep up with Grimmjow’s irate pace.

They walked through the town to the small square. The music was different, more upbeat, but it still managed to give Ichigo the creeps. There were two costumed men who stood side by side, juggling, and a beautiful woman working the crowd. They were handsome people with dark skin and hair. “They look normal.”

Grimmjow made a face, “Of course they do. They’re humans like everyone else.”

“I was expecting…” Ichigo began. And then he just rolled his eyes. He’d been concerned for nothing.

“You there!” the woman called out. She spoke in a language Ichigo had never heard before.

But due to the curse, Ichigo had no problem understanding or responding, “Me?”

“Ich-i-go.” Grimmjow spat, looking at the young shifter with wide, mad eyes.

“Yes you!” the woman returned, her adorned sash clinking and tinkling as she approached. And then in Sumerian, so the crowd could understand, she announced, “We have a volunteer!”

_“A volunteer?”_ The Master murmured curiously.

“Oh, wait.” Ichigo groaned, waving his hands in refusal.

The woman removed one of her beaded scarfs, draping it around Ichigo’s shoulders. She wiggled her hips to the rhythm of the music, pulling the shifter along by the cloth. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she called out. “What you are about to witness defies the very nature of life and death!”

Grimmjow made eye contact with Ichigo. He shook his head, his hand pressing to his temples. Ichigo frowned apologetically, silently cursing his luck. The woman leaned in closely, smiling from ear to ear.  “What’s your name, kid?”

“Ichigo.” He answered, slightly entranced by the heavy, pleasant fragrance on her skin.

“Ichigo, are you a fairly healthy lad?” The woman asked loudly, the two male performers approaching.

“Yeah.” Ichigo answered, dipping out from under the woman’s shawl.

“Are you fire proof?” the woman asked, blinking exaggeratedly.

“Uh…” Ichigo drawled. “Of course not.”

“Of course not!” the woman repeated, the audience chuckling. “Please, if you will, observe our deathless fire!”

The woman twirled away suddenly as the two men threw a foul-smelling ball of powder at Ichigo’s feet. The balls of powder ignited and profuse amounts of thick, red smoke filled the air. The smoke issued from the balls, hissing like real flames.

The audience screamed in horror, many shielding their eyes from the choking smoke. But then in the next instant, all the powder burned off and all that was left was a soot-covered Ichigo. None of the audience knew what to think, they thought they saw the teen being consumed by fire, but there he stood. They clapped slowly at first and then more vigorously. “He lives!”

“What a great sport he’s been…” the woman continued, squeezing Ichigo’s shoulder. “Everyone give a nice round of applause to our volunteer.”

“Thank you.” the woman breathed, directing Ichigo back to where he had been standing.

“Ah, yeah, sure…” Ichigo replied unsurely, feeling stupid. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” the woman asked, nodding her head as if he’d already confirmed.

“One of what?” Ichigo asked, halting abruptly.

The woman smiled, her hand caressing his cheek, “How am I supposed to know if you don’t?”

“Hey! That’s…”

“Unfair?” the woman finished. “If you wanna chat come see me after the show.”

“Chat about what?” Ichigo asked.

The woman’s smile never faded, “Anything you want to know. I have the answers you’re looking for…”

They had bought themselves food and then promptly left the town square. Grimmjow was agitated. The Master was silent but attentive. Curious. They’d reached their room at the inn when Ichigo finally mustered up the nerve to ask if he could go see the woman.

 “No.” Grimmjow refused flatly.

“But she was nice. She’s obviously a nice human.” Ichigo reasoned.

“Hell no.” Grimmjow growled.

“Are you mad that she picked me and not you?” Ichigo suggested. “I think it’s just because I was looking her direction.”

“No! I’m not! Rule number one, Don’t draw attention to yourself!” Grimmjow shouted. “You broke rule number one!”

“The walls are thin.” Ichigo pointed out.

Grimmjow made a face, “No one can understand us.”

“Let me go.” Ichigo tried again.

“No!” Grimmjow refused immediately.

“Well, you’re not in charge of me.” Ichigo sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh?” Grimmjow’s brows raised in anger. “Okay. Got it.”

“Aren’t you curious? What did she have to tell me?” Ichigo pressed.

“Nothing’s free.” Grimmjow reasoned. “You don’t have a fucking pot to piss in.”

“Can I borrow some-”

“Haha-haha-ha!” Grimmjow barked. “That was funny.”

“Okay, I guess you’ve had bad experiences with this kind of people before, but clearly she’s alright…” Ichigo continued.

“You don’t want to know.” Grimmjow said finally, his face turning down into a frown.

“Huh?” Ichigo asked, his stomach clenching in uncertainty.

“Whatever it is she can tell you… You don’t want to know it.” Grimmjow insisted. “It’s never good. Not for people like us. Hell, maybe for no one at all…”

“My life is a mess. I can’t imagine it gets worse.” Ichigo muttered.

“I have a question,” Grimmjow began. “If you were to die right now, who would miss you?”

“Probably no one.” Ichigo admitted sadly.

“Yeah. That’s proof it can get worse.”

“How does that make sense?” Ichigo groaned, shaking his head.

“When I die,” Grimmjow began. “I don’t wanna leave a damn thing behind.”

“I don’t understand you.” Ichigo whispered.

“It’s better to die all alone than to die when someone’s counting on you.” Grimmjow explained, a strange look in his eye.

“That’s just sad.” Ichigo decided, sitting on the bed.

“That’s just reality.” Grimmjow argued. “The more friends you have, the more lovers, the more people you disappoint.”

“I think it’s pretty selfish to be disappointed in someone for dying.” Ichigo groaned.

“It’s pretty selfish to expect forgiveness for it too.” Grimmjow replied. “Just ‘cause everyone does it, doesn’t make it right.”

“You’re a weird guy.” Ichigo decided.

_“I want to go.”_ The Master interrupted.

“Damn it to hell!” Grimmjow snapped.

_“You will take us.”_

“Ichigo, I could strangle you.”

Ichigo sighed heavily, pulling his knees up to his chest, “Sorry.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya…” Grimmjow cautioned. He wagged his finger at Ichigo in frustration. “You bastards… Ganging up on me…”

“Sorry.”

Grimmjow pursed his lips together, “Now wha’did I say about apologizing all the time?”

Ichigo smiled shamelessly, shrugging, “Sor-ry, Grimmy.”

“Grimmy?”

Ichigo beamed even wider, “Do you not like it?”

“I love it.” Grimmjow insisted with tight lips.

“Shall we go then?” Ichigo suggested, hopping off the bed and hooking his arm around Grimmjow’s.

“Sure.” Grimmjow spat, his face held in a mask-like smile.

“Aw, come on.” Ichigo murmured. “It won’t be bad. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Grimmjow barked. “Ever.”

“Yes, father.” Ichigo groaned, bowing his head in mock shame.

“Ewwwwwww…” Grimmjow groaned, letting his head fall back. “Don’t say something like that.”

“What? I thought you considered yourself the father of other shifters or something…” Ichigo explained himself, thinking back on their conversation about the council.

“Yeah, well, that’s them… That’s different…” Grimmjow reasoned, tilting his head to the side in thought. “You’re not like that… ya know?”

“Oh? No, I don’t know.” Ichigo returned, his hands behind his back. “Can you explain?”

Grimmjow opened his mouth to respond and then thought better of it. He shrugged and opened the door, ushering Ichigo out and into the street. “Let’s get this the fuck over with.”

The performers were just finishing for the night when Grimmjow and Ichigo walked up. They passed around a collection hat, using their most beautiful women and men to do the task. Ichigo caught the attention of the Romni woman and she smiled, waving him over. “Hello Ichigo.”

“Hello again, err… what’s your name?” Ichigo muttered in embarrassment.

“Matangi.” The woman answered, her dark slender hand sliding over Ichigo’s. “Come with me.” She turned, letting Ichigo’s hand slip through hers. “You can come along too, friend.”

“You can come along too…” Grimmjow muttered beneath his breath. “You can fuck off.”

Matangi led the two shifters out of the square and through the town toward her caravan. Most everyone smiled or waved in greeting and Ichigo returned in like. “Here we are!”

“Where is here?” Grimmjow asked, looking around the small tent, unimpressed.

“Take a seat, Ichigo,” Matangi breathed, sitting on a worn pillow.  She gestured to the pillows across from her and the men sat down. She pulled Ichigo’s hand into hers, studying the palm lines.

“Wow.” Grimmjow sighed. “This is new. Usually they use some sort of crystal.”

_“Shut up.”_ Both Master and shifter hissed.

“You’ve just started a perilous journey.” Matangi said, rubbing her fingers over Ichigo’s hand.

“Yes!” Ichigo confirmed, nodding his head excitedly.

Matangi smiled and nodded, “I thought so.”

“Oh, please…” Grimmjow barked. “He’s not from here. Travelling’s dangerous. It’s common sense.”

“You’ve done something you regret.” Matangi continued, ignoring Grimmjow’s outburst. Ichigo only nodded. “You’ve lost someone very important to you.”

“Yes.”

“Your mother?” Matangi asked, stroking Ichigo’s hand. Ichigo only nodded. “There is a darkness in you. You carry something much heavier than guilt.”

Ichigo and Grimmjow shared a look. Ichigo cleared his throat, “I suppose that’s true.”

“What’s something you wouldn’t know? Or couldn’t guess, huh?” Grimmjow pressed. “Impress me.”

Matangi was silent for a moment before responding, “The first lips to touch your own were those of your companion there.”

Grimmjow blanched, his brows furrowed. Ichigo, however, turned bright red. “Ah…”

Matangi nodded, “I feel like I have a good grasp on you. I will answer four questions, if I am able to…” Matangi dropped her shawl on the ground between them. “For four shekels.”

“Told you.” Grimmjow sighed, handing Ichigo four copper coils.

“How could you possibly know that?” Ichigo wondered, referring to the first kiss comment.

Matangi smiled sympathetically, “That wasn’t one of your four questions, was it?”

“No.” Ichigo shook his head adamantly.

“How come you haven’t asked me if I wanna try?” Grimmjow asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Because you’re not human.” Matangi said simply. “I wouldn’t know how to read you.”

“Huh.” Grimmjow murmured, a thousand thoughts running through his mind.

“Is my mother undead?” Ichigo blurted out. “Does she suffer?”

Matangi looked startled at first, but she took his hand calmly, “Your mother is dead. She is at peace.”

“Are you sure?” Ichigo pressed, willing to risk the second question. “She was brought back… and it… it was awful… It was the most wretched thing…”

“Brought back?” Grimmjow narrowed his eyes curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Her spirit is not in this world.” Matangi assured him. “She is gone, completely.”

“Is my family alright? My father and my sisters?” Ichigo asked next.

“They are sad but well.” Matangi replied. “They miss you and don’t know where you’ve gone.”

“Last question.” Grimmjow breathed, leaning in closely.

“Last question.” Matangi confirmed.

“What do I need to know?” Ichigo asked, watching her reaction to the question.

She made a face, thoughtful and unsure, but then she answered, “When the time comes, say yes.”

“What?” Grimmjow snapped, furrowing his brow. “What’s with that answer?”

“Say yes to what?” Ichigo asked, slightly panicked.

Matangi hesitated, “I’m not sure.”

“Wow. Just wow. That’s great.” Grimmjow drawled. “Make sure you say yes to everything then… Ya never know.”

“I… I see your life… and then I see your death…” Matangi tried to explain, becoming slightly flustered. “And then I see a choice. And perhaps another life.”

“My death?” Ichigo asked, hearing only one thing.

“How’s he die?” Grimmjow asked, nudging against Ichigo. “Is it bad?”

“I’ve answered the four questions.” Matangi said, wiping her hands in gesture.

“Then give me four questions.” Grimmjow growled, tossing more shekels onto her shawl.

“I told you, I won’t be able to read you,” Matangi sighed.

“Don’t read me then. Read him.” Grimmjow nearly purred. “I want my four questions.”

Matangi looked from shifter to shifter before nodding, taking Ichigo’s hand back in hers. “Of course.”

“What to ask… What to ask…” Grimmjow mused. “Does he ever outgrow being useless?”

“Thanks…” Ichigo snapped.

“He becomes very powerful.” Matangi answered. “Possibly the strongest shifter of his kind ever.”

“Fuck.” Grimmjow breathed out. “Good for you, Ichi…”

“Ha.” Ichigo grunted in disbelief. “That’s a little farfetched.”

“Okay, next question…” Grimmjow continued. “Uh. How about…? How about his love life?”

“Grimmjow!” Ichigo groaned, covering his face with his free hand.

Matangi smiled and nodded, amused by the question. She stroked Ichigo’s hand and suddenly her smile faltered, “Not in this life.”

“Huh?” Ichigo asked, his stomach clenching.

“Explain.” Grimmjow demanded, licking his teeth.

“I see two loves, but I see no happy endings.” Matangi explained. “At least not in this life.”

“Shit.” Grimmjow groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Ichigo. Better luck next time.”

“I’m starting to think you’re right.” Ichigo barked. “I don’t wanna know.”

“Ah, come on.” Grimmjow reasoned. “The future’s what you make it. Not some Romni woman’s gift of foresight.”

“Two more questions.” Matangi warned, looking from shifter to shifter.

“How does he croak?” Grimmjow asked.

“Hey…” Ichigo groaned.

“He falls in battle.” Matangi answered, a strange look in her eye. “Trying to save you.”

Grimmjow straightened up, his face falling. He shook his head, his skin growing cold. “That’s impossible.”

“Battle?” Ichigo looked from Matangi to Grimmjow unsurely. “I can’t imagine something like that.”

“I see it.” Matangi answered, locking eyes with Grimmjow. “But the future can always change.”

_“That’s intolerable. I won’t allow it.”_

Matangi released Ichigo’s hand, hurling herself away from him in disgust. “Go!”

“Wait a minute,” Grimmjow barked. “I still got one more question.”

Matangi grabbed the shekels from the ground and tossed them at Grimmjow. “Take them and go! Leave here at once.”

“Why?” Ichigo asked, climbing to his feet as Grimmjow collected his coins.

“You’ve brought evil inside my home! Go!” Matangi spat.

She made enough noise that several other Roma appeared at the mouth of the tent. “Matangi? What’s wrong?”

“Go!” Matangi repeated, pointing an accusatory finger at Ichigo. “Get out!”

“We’re going.” Grimmjow snarled, his eyes flashing in warning. He blocked the men from reaching Ichigo, pulling himself up to his full impressive height. “I’ll fucking smash your teeth through your skull if you lay a finger on him.”

“I’m sorry, Ichigo.” Matangi murmured, bowing her head as they walked from the tent. “You’re cursed.”

“Well, like that wasn’t fuckin obvious in the first place?” Grimmjow barked, slicing his claws through the air. “Don’t even fucking look at us! We’re goin’. We’re goin’.”

The men that escorted the two shifters from camp grew and grew until nearly the entire caravan was watching them go. Grimmjow cursed and complained the entire way, bristling with rage. Ichigo was silent. But the Roma murmured threateningly, dreadfully.

“Fuck you, Gypsy bastards!” Grimmjow spat, brushing his thumb over his mouth rudely. “Just a bunch of fucking charlatans!”

“Stop.” Ichigo breathed, touching Grimmjow’s arm softly. “Don’t mind it.”

“I should fucking eat them.” Grimmjow decided, whispering calmly.

“You were right.” Ichigo conceded, nodding his head slowly. “I didn’t want to know after all.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Grimmjow said, snapping out of his rage. He smoothed his hand over Ichigo’s coppery hair affectionately. “She said you die in battle. Easy. Don’t get yourself involved in any wars. Shouldn’t be too hard…” Grimmjow curled his hands into fists, trying to hide the claws that wouldn’t quite yet retract.

“I’m not worried about that.” Ichigo breathed, pretending not to feel the eyes watching their retreat back into town.

“And ain’t no way in hell you’d die trying to save me.” Grimmjow teased, trying to lighten to mood. “You can’t even say you like me yet.”

“When I die, I die.” Ichigo reasoned.

“And she could’ve been full of shit.” Grimmjow added. “It’s not like we know… And how would she know? I mean, really?”

“She said you weren’t human.” Ichigo pointed out, watching Grimmjow from the corner of his eye. “What did she mean by that?”

“I am shifter, Ichigo.” Grimmjow sighed, smirking.

“But so am I. She didn’t have any problem reading my palm.” Ichigo continued.

“Huh.” Grimmjow said simply, shrugging. “Who knows?”

“That was depressing as hell.” Ichigo admitted, his chest deflating.

“Eh, don’t mind it.” Grimmjow insisted. “It’s not even half as bad as I was expecting.”

Ichigo groaned loudly, tugging at his hair. “I’m so tired of this.”

Grimmjow laughed bitterly, “That’s just too bad, kid. Cause you’ve got an eternity left to suffer. You’ve just started.”

“Great.”

“I’m just being honest.” Grimmjow replied. “And you can bet your ass I know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s decided.” Ichigo said simply.

“What is?”

“I’m signing up for the next war.” Ichigo quipped.

“Ooh, that’s harsh.” Grimmjow groaned. “You want me to die too?”

“She said the future can change.” Ichigo clarified. “If we’re not together we’re either invincible or we change fate.”

Grimmjow nodded, a smile spreading across his handsome face. “I like that. I can work with that.”

“To invincibility,” Ichigo said, offering his hand to Grimmjow.

Grimmjow took Ichigo’s hand and squeezed, “To being the masters of our own fate.”


	8. All Your Heroes are Dead

** Part VIII: All Your Heroes are Dead **

When Grimmjow woke it was the dark of early morning. He opened his eyes as a pair of slender, muscled legs stepped over him and across the floor. He blinked slowly, fighting the heaviness of sleep. He looked up and saw Ichigo pressed against the door. He held the knob in his hand, trying his hardest to be silent.

Their eyes met. It wasn’t Ichigo sneaking out of the room in the middle of the night. Grimmjow stared into those green eyes, wondering what sort of appearance Ulquiorra had. Those eyes could never have been human. “Where are you going?”

The Master looked frightened, using Ichigo’s slight frame to lean against the door, or perhaps cold. Either way, no matter how Grimmjow looked at him, he couldn’t imagine that body causing anyone harm. _“I will return.”_ Grimmjow was about to say something else when the Master continued. _“Go back to sleep.”_

Grimmjow wasn’t sure if it was a command or a suggestion but he was halfway asleep before the door closed behind Ichigo’s body. The narrow room still smelled like Ichigo. Grimmjow rolled over, his hand smoothing over the space that the other shifter had occupied. The spot was still warm. And then he was asleep.

Piercing screams startled Grimmjow awake. There was so much pain and agony in the shrieking that as he rolled to his feet he was already half-transformed. He was immediately aware that Ichigo had not returned. He cursed, trying to regain composure. He kicked open the door and peered into the foggy early morning. To the east the sky was a brilliant pink, sunrise was approaching.

“Ichigo?” Grimmjow called out, pressing his back against the wall of the room to hide his transforming body.

There was so much shouting, running, confusion in the street that Grimmjow thought he might vomit. He took deep breaths, willing his face and hands to return to their human appearance. He growled, low and in the belly, like a cat. He cursed, tapping his foot against the floor impatiently. “Ichigo?!”

He had been too worried, too confused to focus. The breeze picked up, carrying the overwhelming stench of death and something sinister. The scent was unforgettable, the scent of a Master. Grimmjow pushed off from the wall and ran into the street, his appearance be damned.

The townspeople were running toward him and away from the square. They carried nothing and not a single one noticed his beast-like features. Grimmjow cracked his knuckles loudly, walking toward the square with resolve.

“Ichigo!” Grimmjow called out, searching the rushing crowd for the other shifter. His worry had disappeared, he knew, generally, where he would find him, and the emotion was replaced with curiosity. And he knew almost exactly what else he would find, he could almost taste the blood in the air.

Grimmjow walked through the square, stepping over nearly a dozen mutilated corpses. Men, women, children, everyone was equal in the eyes of death. Grimmjow’s stomach grumbled and he considered stopping to feed. He lost his appetite the next moment, however, when he could finally feel Ichigo’s presence. Grimmjow walked faster, even right over the corpses, to get to the other shifter. Ichigo was unwell, he needed help.

“Grimmjow…” Ichigo sobbed.

Grimmjow could have missed the blood-soaked, naked teen, huddled against a stone wall. Grimmjow paused, rolling his shoulders backward stiffly. He strolled over to where Ichigo crouched. Grimmjow leaned over, lifting Ichigo’s face up. He searched his brown eyes before taking off his shirt and offering it to the other shifter. “Let’s go.”

“I… I killed… all those… pe-people…” Ichigo stammered, looking up with wild eyes.

Grimmjow wanted to ask questions. He also wanted to run as far away as his legs would carry him. He wanted to know how Ichigo had done it. He wanted to kill Ichigo and leave him behind. But instead he swallowed all of his fear and doubt and lifted Ichigo to his feet, “Yeah. And?”

“I killed people!” Ichigo blurted out, covering his mouth as if surprised by his own admission. Grimmjow began to dress Ichigo, pulling his shirt over the teen’s head. Most of the blood on the shifter’s skin was not his own, but streams of it oozed from his nose and ears. “They didn’t even do anything to me!”

Grimmjow spared a quick glance toward the caravan. It had been decimated completely. Grimmjow knew without seeing that there would be no survivors. “It’s our nature. We’re predators, Ichigo.” Ichigo shook his head and tried to pull away but Grimmjow held onto him firmly. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve done something terrible…” Ichigo cried out, the blood dripping from his nose stained his teeth.

“Yeah.” Grimmjow snapped, dragging Ichigo along behind him as he began to walk. “That’s our nature.”

“Grimmjow!” Ichigo snarled in frustration. “Stop!”

“Why? Will getting ripped apart by humans make it better? Will dying bring any of those people back?” Grimmjow demanded, shaking Ichigo roughly. “If you die your Master will just kill more people! More and more death! It will never stop! Do you want that?”

“No… no…”

“Then we must leave this place!” Grimmjow barked, turning pleading eyes toward Ichigo. “Now.”

“Okay.” Ichigo agreed, nodding.

“Wait right here a moment.” Grimmjow requested, releasing his hold on Ichigo. He watched the teen for a moment, making sure he didn’t collapse, before turning around. He searched the carnage quickly, finding what he needed.

“What…?” Ichigo asked, wiping at the blood pouring down his face.

Grimmjow stripped one of the corpses, a young woman with flowing black hair. He removed her pants and stood, handing them to Ichigo in offering. “Get dressed.”

“I c-can’t…”

“Yeah, you can.” Grimmjow snapped, throwing the pants at Ichigo’s face impatiently. Ichigo clutched the fabric against his chest, staring blankly ahead. Grimmjow sighed heavily and kneeled, yanking the pants from Ichigo’s grasp. He dressed Ichigo himself. “We’ve got to walk now.”

“Okay.” Ichigo said quietly.

“They’ll be coming after us.” Grimmjow stressed. “They always fucking do.”

* * *

 

“How’re you doin’?” Grimmjow asked. Ichigo nodded wordlessly. Grimmjow frowned. “So what happened last night?”

“What do you mean?” Ichigo asked after a long pause.

“Why’d you sneak out in the middle of the night?”

Ichigo shrugged, “My schedule’s all mixed up now. I couldn’t sleep.”

Grimmjow accepted that answer with a nod, “Where’d ya go?”

“I don’t really know.”

Grimmjow made a noise, “How does that work?”

“I don’t remember.” Ichigo replied. “It happens sometimes.”

Grimmjow nodded. They walked in silence for several meters before Grimmjow spoke again, “What’s the first thing you remember?”

Ichigo groaned, loud and long. He didn’t answer at first but eventually he divulged, “I remember holding her head in my hand… And there was nothing connecting her to her body.”

Grimmjow let out his breath, “That psychic Romni woman?”

“Yeah.” Ichigo confirmed, willing the image from his mind. “Her name was Matangi.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Grimmjow reasoned.

“It still matters.” Ichigo insisted bitterly.

Grimmjow chuckled darkly, “She doesn’t exist anymore. There’s no sense in keeping onto those sort of things.”

“I’m not sure you’re the most reliable person in that regard,” Ichigo muttered. “You chose not to remember your best memory.”

“That’s not yer business…” Grimmjow warned.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, “Maybe not, but I’m fucking curious…”

“You sound like your Master.” Grimmjow accused, amused by the answer.

Ichigo’s jaw set angrily, “Fuck off.”

“Do I need to remind you? I don’t need you. You need me.” Grimmjow said flatly.

“Not anymore.” Ichigo retorted.

“No?” Grimmjow arched a brow.

“No.” Ichigo confirmed.

“Then I’ll leave…” Grimmjow threatened, turning around and shuffling the opposite direction. “Shall I?”

“Fine by me.”

Ichigo’s answer infuriated Grimmjow. “Really? After all the fucking help I’ve given you? Everything I’ve done for you? You’re still gonna act like a fuckin’ bastard?” Ichigo’s silence enraged him further. “Fucking go and die somewhere, you piece of shit!”

And then Grimmjow tackled the young shifter. He punched him roughly, grabbing fistfuls of coppery hair and slamming his head into the ground. He was vicious, bludgeoning the teen’s head against the hard-packed earth.

Blood poured from Ichigo’s broken nose, swirling in his mouth and staining his teeth pink. Ichigo grunted, his eyes clamped shut as Grimmjow struck him again and again. He raised his hands weakly, doing his best to block the onslaught of Grimmjow’s fists.

Finally, Grimmjow rolled off of Ichigo, cursing and shouting in frustration. He kicked Ichigo in the side before stomping off, his hands shaking in rage. “I’m really gonna fucking leave you here!”

Ichigo sat up weakly, his broken teeth healing slowly against his tongue. He took in a rattling breath, his lips trembling, and nodded, “Okay.”

* * *

 

_“He’s gone.”_ Ichigo was silent, walking along the worn road. _“He’s not coming back.”_

“Probaby not.” Ichigo admitted, stumbling a bit over a rough patch of gravel, his sandal catching a cleft of rock.

_“I can’t feel his presence any longer.”_

“We don’t need him.” Ichigo murmured, the warm sun beating down on his skin.

_“A Master needs no one and nothing.”_

“Then why do you keep me?” Ichigo asked pointedly. He expected the pain that followed. He dropped to his knee, the intense pain making his vision blur. He grunted uncomfortably, his severed tongue slipping from between his lips and plopping into the dirt. There was so much blood.

_“Do you thank your cup? Or your clothes?”_ Ulquiorra mused. _“It’s as ridiculous to form an attachment to a contract-holder.”_

Ichigo made a sour face. He waited until his tongue had regrown before continuing on his path. “You need me. You can punish me if you want, but I’m right.”

* * *

 

_“This is a mistake.”_

“Shhhh…” Ichigo hissed, crouching in the brush. “They’ll hear you.”

Ichigo pushed aside a bit of foliage, watching the two girls playing. They laughed easily, wasting more water than they prepared to carry. Ichigo couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his face.

_“Their lives are so temporary, fleeting…”_

“Shhhh…” Ichigo repeated, ignoring his Master’s words. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He was so close. All he had to do was stand up and he could talk to them again. He watched his sisters play in the water happily, a weight unraveling in his chest.

“Karin! Yuzu!” Their father yelled, approaching from the other side.

He looked the same, perhaps a little more greyed at the temples, maybe even a little more weight in the middle. But he was still broad, strong, and handsome. The relief Ichigo felt at seeing his sisters again evaporated, replaced with tormenting guilt.

“Papa!” Yuzu shouted, looking toward her father and getting splashed in the face by her twin.

“You were taking a while.” Their father sighed. “And now I know why. You’re up to no good.”

“We weren’t gone that long.” Karin insisted.

“You know I don’t like the two of you wandering off…” their father snapped.

“Sorry, Papa.”

“Sorry.”

“Come on home,” their father instructed. “We’ve got work to do. People aren’t going to heal themselves…”

Ichigo’s heart pounded. All three of them were right there. This was his chance, perhaps his last ever. If only he could speak to them, show them he was alright. But his body was frozen, his heart beating loudly in his ears. He couldn’t move an inch. He panicked, watching their backs turn from the well. His father paused, picking up both the girls’ casks of water.

Ichigo tried to call out, but his tongue was held firmly into place. He let out an involuntary growl and his father turned, searching the brush cautiously. He let his daughters pass him, his eyes still scanning the foliage. “Coming Papa?”

“Yeah.”

Ichigo remained crouched and silent long after they’d gone. _“Why do you not move?”_

It was only a short walk to his childhood home. If he walked through the grove of olive trees, past two farms, he’d be there. He’d find the old Cyprus tree he would sit under with his father. He’d find the long-standing den where he and his mother once found three fox kits. Right at the edge of their property was a large boulder, the one that Karin had broken her arm jumping off of. The jasmine that Yuzu watered would look so inviting. If he kept going he would be at his house, with his family. Just a little farther.

“Just a moment longer.”

* * *

 

_“Smells… appetizing.”_ Ulquiorra spoke aloud.

Ichigo felt his stomach grumble in hunger and he wondered if his Master experienced the same. He eyed the food as he walked past, the smell almost cruel on an empty stomach. He didn’t have a single shekel. He didn’t have anything to barter either.

Luckily, he had talents if nothing else. He stepped into the alley between two vendors. His form rippled from view and, invisible, he snuck back over to a row of carts. He plucked produce from cart after cart, the stolen food disappearing from sight as soon as it touched his hand.

He kept walking, tearing into a handful of figs. He chewed rudely, shoving whatever fell back into his mouth. His hands shook, whether from excitement, hunger, or the thrill of thievery, he couldn’t tell. He wanted the meat and decided to finish the fruits and vegetables and head back through the market for another round.

“Here you are.”

Ichigo halted abruptly, looking up at the sandy-blonde in surprise. It took a moment before recognition hit him. Ulquiorra was fast, hissing out, _“Tenken!”,_ before Ichigo could put a name to the face.

“You’re…” Ichigo trailed off, his invisibility turning off in his shock.

“My name is Komamura,” the broad man explained. “We met in the palace.”

“I remember.” Ichigo murmured, biting into an eggplant. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you.” Komamura replied, his clawed hand wrapping around Ichigo’s arm.

_“Let go.”_ The Master spat. _“Don’t touch us with those hands. You’ll bring unwanted attention! You disgusting failure…”_

Komamura’s eyes narrowed. The more Ichigo looked at him the truer the harsh statement seemed. Komamura didn’t look human. He was handsome, without a doubt, young and supple-bodied. However, fur tipped his ears; his mouth was shaped oddly, canine teeth jutting from his lips. His eyes glowed, as if lit by an internal light source.

“Ichigo,” Komamura said, ignoring Ulquiorra entirely. “I want to take you back to the Council.”

“No.” Ichigo replied simply, finishing the eggplant in three big gulps.

“There are people I want you to see.” Komamura continued.

“Who?” Ichigo asked, watching the wolf-man carefully.

“Toshiro Hitsugaya and Kenpachi Zaraki,” Komamura answered. “They can help you.”

_“Kill him.”_ Ulquiorra rasped. _“Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him…”_

“Come with me.” Komamura pleaded, his large, warm hand wrapping around Ichigo’s. “They can stop him.”

_“Kill him.”_ Ulquiorra grew louder and louder. Ichigo’s entire body burned like hellfire. He cried out, dropping to his knees in agony. _“Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”_

Ichigo lost consciousness, the agony unbearable. Blood poured profusely from his nose and ears. He staggered to his feet, watching Komamura with hateful green eyes. His skin blanched everywhere, like death.

“What are you doing?” Komamura demanded.

_“Surviving.”_

“Leave the kid alone.” Komamura barked. “You’re the worst.”

_“You leave_ us _alone.”_ Ulquiorra ordered. _“Or I’ll kill this miserable creature.”_

“You can’t.” Komamura argued. “Not until his 100 years are over…”

Ichigo’s face twisted into a bizarre grin, _“Don’t pretend you know everything. You’re not special, regardless of the strong Xibalbans you associate with.”_

“I could say the same for you.” Komamura muttered angrily.

_“Aizen is the strongest.”_ Ulquiorra said. _“And all your heroes are dead.”_

“Katen Kyokotsu is-” Komamura boomed.

_“You dare to bring up such a pathetic name?”_ Ulquiorra sneered. _“You’re a fucking lost cause.”_

“I’m taking him with me.” Komamura breathed out, his claws jutting further out from the tips of his fingers.

_“I’m not going.”_

“Then get out of him!” Komamura snapped.

_“I’ll warn you,”_ Ulquiorra replied. _“My contract is a little different than the one Aizen uses.”_

Komamura blinked in confusion, “How so?”

_“I can kill this fucking pig anytime I like. And I will if you don’t leave us right now.”_

“You’re not as smart as you think you are,” Komamura growled. “He dies either way. So I can either let you walk off or I can drag you back to Carcer.”

Ichigo’s face twisted in understanding, _“Damn.”_

“Yeah.” Komamura barked. “Got ya.”

_“Hardly.”_ Ulquiorra replied. _“You’re forgetting that you’re the weakest Xibalban of them all. I could beat you with one of his arms tied behind his back…”_

“That’s pretty big talk.” Komamura groaned. “Show me then, Murciélago.”

_“I’ll kill you.”_ Ulquiorra said, not in warning but purely a statement.

Blood began to stream from Ichigo’s eyes. The atmosphere changed and Komamura realized too late what Ulquiorra planned to do. “Wait! There’re too many people here!”

_“I don’t care,”_ Ulquiorra replied.

There was a huge explosion. The ground shook and groaned, the wooden buildings cracking loudly into pieces. The air was thick with black matter. The blackness rained down on the earth like ash and meteors. It was chaos. It was inescapable death.

Buildings burned, the ground steamed. The first few moments of panicked screams had all given way to choked cries for mercy that wouldn’t come. There was no clean air left. There was no light except for flame. That little spot where Ichigo stood was the only unaffected space left for miles and miles.

Ulquiorra staggered forward, Ichigo’s body growing heavier and more difficult to control. He stood beside Komamura’s damaged body and looked down. Komamura would heal, but it would take the weak Master some time to do so. _“Stay down. Good boy.”_

Ulquiorra cursed Ichigo’s vulnerability. He had to leave his body or the shifter would die. The Master had invested too much into the shifter to lose him now. With a sigh he _left_ Ichigo. He caught the collapsing shifter into his arms.

It was such an odd feeling to look at Ichigo as separate from himself. He hoisted the unconscious shifter into his arms and carried him. Ichigo blinked awake for a moment.  The Master was more petite than he had imagined he’d be. His skin was white as an iris in stark contrast to his ebony black hair.

Ulquiorra looked down, his gaze meeting Ichigo’s. His face was expressionless and disconcerting. Ichigo closed his eyes weakly, unable to take that stare while feeling so ill. “I saved you,” Ulquiorra said, his voice deep and even. “I’ve never met anyone so useless.”


	9. Little Stars

** Part IX: Little Stars **

_“When he shall die,_  
Take him and cut him out in little stars,  
And he will make the face of heaven so fine  
That all the world will be in love with night  
And pay no worship to the garish sun.”   
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

* * *

 

When Ichigo came to he was inside a strange house. It was dark, built without windows, and not even a single candle was lit. The darkness was heavy and cold. Ichigo sat up, looking around the empty house in confusion. He realized someone else was in the room, and at first, in his daze, he thought it was Grimmjow.

“Where are we?” Ichigo asked, swinging his legs over the side of the cot.

“My house.”

The scent of overwhelming power, the scent of the Master, belatedly hit Ichigo. He narrowed his eyes, just barely making out the shape of the man sitting in the only chair in the room. The Master looked just as strange as he’d thought days before. He was shorter than the teen with paper white skin and shiny black hair. 

“You live here?” Ichigo asked. The floor boards were water logged, the walls were painted with tar. There was a single cot and a single chair. It was a large house, considering, but that only made the emptiness more uncomfortable.

“Sometimes.” Ulquiorra answered in his unexpectedly low voice.

“What happened?” Ichigo pressed. He had a thousand questions to ask and he didn’t think the Master would answer half of them. “Why are you… uh… You’re sitting there…”

Ulquiorra stared ahead blankly. Ichigo had finally accepted he would never get an answer when Ulquiorra spoke again, “You’re too weak. You’ve inconvenienced me.”

“I’m sorry.” Ichigo replied unsurely.

“I have to let you heal.” Ulquiorra explained, referencing their two forms. “Or you’ll die.”

“What happened to Komamura?”

The Master’s expressionless face faltered, his lips twitching into a frown, “I won’t speak of him again. Do the same.”

“Yes, Master.”

* * *

 

“Put out that light.”

Ichigo looked from the flickering candle’s flame to the Master. It was impossibly, uncomfortably dark in the house. He couldn’t even see his own hands as he struggled to light the taper. Ichigo sighed and blew out the candle, casting the single room dwelling into complete darkness again.

“It’s so dark.” Ichigo thought aloud.

Ulquiorra responded, to Ichigo’s surprise, “The light hurts my eyes.”

“Even a single candle?” Ichigo questioned.

“I’m a nocturnal creature.”

“Are all Masters?” Ichigo pressed curiously.

Ulquiorra watched Ichigo for a minute or two, “Not by necessity.”

“What am I?” Ichigo asked, unable to refrain from asking more questions. “What animal do I shift into?”

“Such a stupid question.” Ulquiorra murmured. “ _Furcifer pardalis_.”

“And what the hell is that?” Ichigo asked, growing impatient.

“A panther chameleon.” Ulquiorra replied. “And before you ask, there’s no reason why. You become whatever you become.”

Ichigo nodded.

“Wait? A what?!” Ichigo blurted in shock, Ulquiorra’s words finally sinking in. Ulquiorra mouth twitched. It was clear he wouldn’t be repeating himself. Ichigo groaned, running his hands through his short hair, “A _panther_ chameleon?”

“Is such a thing even real?” Ichigo demanded.

Ulquiorra’s eyes sparked dangerously, “Of course, you stupid sow.”

“I’m not a pig,” Ichigo muttered to himself. “I’m a chameleon.”

* * *

 

Ichigo couldn’t be sure how long he spent in that house with his Master. Minutes felt like hours. And the hours blurred into days. Days without sunshine or light. Days with nothing but the silent company of his Master. The only time they spoke was when the Master would give the young shifter food.

It was odd food, at least for Ichigo. It was good, delicious even, but it was nothing like anything the shifter had had before. The food was salty, and occasionally, spicy. Ichigo wondered again and again what sort of place the Master was from, to have such colorful food.

And how he was getting the food was another question. He never left the house. No one ever came. He didn’t hunt and he certainly hadn’t asked Ichigo to. But every day, three times a day, he would call Ichigo over to him. He would place a single plate between them and then he would watch Ichigo eat everything by himself.

Ichigo could hardly eat the first few days. The Master’s gaze was heavy and disarming. But Ulquiorra urged the young shifter to eat, and the Master was not a patient man. So Ichigo ate. At first he was cautious of the new food, but by the third day he knew it would all be delicious.

The Master only watched; his green eyes wide and quick. He’s face was so smooth and impassive that Ichigo wasn’t even sure the Master was breathing. Occasionally, when Ichigo ate something particularly tasty, Ulquiorra would lean in more closely, following Ichigo’s hand as it travelled to his mouth.

“Do you want some?” Ichigo asked, a week in.

Ulquiorra’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, “If I did, I’d be eating it.”

Ichigo nodded. _True enough_ , he thought.

“Does it taste good?” Ulquiorra asked, watching Ichigo intently.

Ichigo swallowed a bite of his meal, “It’s very delicious.”

“You’re too thin.” The Master claimed, his eyes never leaving the shifter. Ichigo wanted to retort that the Master had no room to talk, but he abstained and merely nodded. The Master scooted closer, rather uncharacteristically, “I need you strong and healthy.”

Ichigo felt an odd sense of affection from that statement, even though that wasn’t the Master’s intended reaction. Ichigo nodded silently, ignoring his Master’s staring, and continued to eat the wonderful, fresh food.

Eventually, Ichigo grew accustomed to the darkness. He could feel his eyes transform when he needed to see, it was an odd sensation and Ichigo wondered what it looked like. Staying in the house for weeks had another benefit. For the first time he was absolutely protected. He couldn’t leave the house, but Ulquiorra didn’t seem to mind if he practiced inside. So he practiced, or rather, explored his abilities.

It was difficult to know for certain, but it had been around a month when Ulquiorra finally decided Ichigo was ready to leave. “We’ll leave tonight.”

Ichigo nodded, he had no idea if it was day or night, but he wasn’t surprised the Master knew. “Okay.”

The delicious meal that he ate before leaving would be the last like it, for a very long time.

* * *

 

 “I need money.” Ichigo sighed, rubbing his growling stomach. The Master didn’t reply so Ichigo pressed on. “Other Masters give their shifters money…”

_“Masters have no use for money.”_

“I’m gonna lose all that weight I put on.” Ichigo pointed out, still holding onto a sliver of hope.

The Master thought it over before replying, _“Hunting is free.”_

Ichigo groaned, pushing up from his knees and onto his feet. He diverted from the worn road and started walking off into the wild, overgrown field. He looked around, searching for any movement in the tall grass.

_“You should learn to breathe with your mouth closed. You make so much noise.”_

That statement was so much like something Grimmjow would say that it made Ichigo lose his appetite. He hadn’t seen Grimmjow in months, if not longer. Ichigo wouldn’t admit it, but it was comforting to have the older shifter along for the journey. It was comforting to have another person to talk to, even if they weren’t particularly polite.

“I see something.” Ichigo announced, his eyes locked on the small creature.

_“It needs to be bigger.”_ The Master derided. _“You’ll burn more calories chasing after it than you’ll earn eating it.”_

And a few months ago, hell, a few weeks ago, that would’ve been true. But Ichigo was improving. He was learning rapidly where his talents lie. And before the poor creature even knew it was in danger, Ichigo had it clutched in his hand.

He looked the small vole up and down and then shrugged, sinking his teeth into its neck. He bit down firmly, ending the pitiful thing’s struggle. It wasn’t until he was searching for something else to eat that he realized what he’d just done. He’d eaten the animal raw and ungutted, the blood staining his hands, mouth, and clothes.

“Oh…” Ichigo groaned, throwing the twisted remains to the ground in disgust. The Master didn’t say anything, but Ichigo could swear that he felt an intense wave of amusement rushing into him. It pissed him off. The Master pissed him off, more and more. He was tired of being meek and obedient and fucking fearful…

* * *

 

_“It’s hot.”_

It was. Unbearably so. Ichigo sighed, wiping sweat from his face with his sleeve. He was walking along the only road for hundreds of miles, with nothing and no one in sight. It would be days before he came across a town or village.

Ichigo walked a little farther toward a large, old juniper tree. He climbed it with almost no effort, nestling against the branches underneath the shade of the juniper leaves. It was only when he had stopped that he realized how truly exhausted he was. It was so tiresome to avoid humans.

When he woke it was night. The stars twinkled in the black blanket of sky. He dropped his legs over either side of the branch and leaned forward for a better view. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so beautiful as that night sky.

_“Why do you hesitate?”_

Ichigo was surprised by his Master’s sudden question and he answered differently than he would have otherwise, “I feel small. But I don’t mind.”

Ichigo inhaled slowly.

_“You are small and inconsequential.”_

Ichigo exhaled slowly.

_“Only livestock is stupid enough to be content until death.”_

Ichigo inhaled deeply.

_“Say something.”_

Ichigo exhaled deeply. He didn’t say a word.

* * *

 

“What is this?” Ichigo wondered aloud, wiping the fresh blood from his lips. He chewed on the carcass in his hand, even crunching the bones between his sharp, strong teeth.

The Master was silent, but curious. Ichigo walked forward, his senses on fire. There was something unsettling about the scent on the air. It took only a moment longer for Ichigo to realize what it was. Ulquiorra clicked his tongue, _“It is one of my kind.”_

Ichigo nodded at the confirmation. He lingered at the fork in the road unsurely. He didn’t know where either road led. Down one road, who knew where, there was another Master. Down the other road, there was even more uncertainty. “Which way, Master?”

_“Left.”_ The Master answered decisively.  Ichigo was surprised, but he obeyed. He took the left road, his pace quickening until he was nearly running. _“What are you doing?”_

_If we can smell him, he can smell us,_ Ichigo thought. He jogged down the road, his arms swinging at his sides. He licked his lips before answering, “Just following directions, Master.” The Master was silent, but Ichigo was too curious to stay quiet, “Why didn’t you want to go right?”

_“Do you get along with every human?”_ Ulquiorra questioned.

“No,” Ichigo conceded. “But there are many, many more of us.”

_“That Master,”_ Ulquiorra explained. _“The last time I saw him I swallowed his spleen and liver. I’m not sure if he’s moved on from that or not. And I can’t risk him damaging your body.”_

Ichigo thought about what Ulquiorra just said. He vowed then and there that he would never be the same. He would never do anything to betray or harm another shifter. Grimmjow crossed his mind and Ichigo nearly rolled his eyes. _Perhaps he’s the exception,_ Ichigo allowed, shaking his head. _Not like I’ll ever see him again, anyway._

_“Your heartbeat quickened.”_

Ichigo stammered, clutching his chest tightly, “Wh-w-what? No it didn’t.”

_“Why are you lying? It’s quite easy to tell whether I’m right or not…”_

“Sorry,” Ichigo murmured quickly. “It’s nothing.”

* * *

 

It was strange. Today was his birthday but he hadn’t mentioned it. Ulquiorra wouldn’t care; in fact, it would probably piss him off. He hated sentimentality. He hated Ichigo too, but there was nothing Ichigo could do about that. But it was strange. Today was his birthday and no one in the world seemed to know.

Back in Macedonia, his family would know. Would they celebrate without him? Would they ignore it? Would they mourn for him today? Ichigo couldn’t picture his father’s reaction. Did he still exist in their lives or had he been erased? Punished for leaving?

Not for the last time, Ichigo missed his mother. He probably missed her most of all. It was unfair, how the world had no qualms with destroying a person. One moment they were here and the next they were gone, and neither entrance nor exit was ever in a person’s own control.

_“What is it?”_

“Huh?” Ichigo asked unsurely.

_“Something is worrying you.”_

“Nothing worth talking about.” Ichigo answered, feeling embarrassed.

_“I won’t ask again.”_ Ulquiorra warned.

“I was thinking about my mother.” Ichigo admitted.

Ulquiorra withdrew slightly in revulsion, _“Don’t think. Just walk.”_

“Walk where? All I do is walk!” Ichigo groaned.

_“You’ll know when you get there.”_

Ichigo thought about Ulquiorra’s words for the rest of the day. Were they really headed somewhere in particular? Was there an end goal in mind? Ichigo stopped to hunt, miraculously managing to kill a deer. He grilled the meat over the spit, the flames warming his chilled body. Ulquiorra’s words danced around in his head and the meat was done in no time.

Ichigo ate in silence, the flames casting long shadows against the ground. The fire appeared to dance and if he squinted he could almost see a wide cast of characters. They moved in the flames, twirling around and interacting in their own little world. It was the most fun he’d had in months, watching the flames as if they had life.

_“You’re smiling.”_ Ulquiorra noted.

“Just thinking.” Ichigo answered.

_“About?”_

Ichigo was quiet for a moment, thinking about his reply. “Just about life.”

_“And that makes you smile?”_

“Sometimes.”

_“Your optimism does you a disservice.”_

“Maybe,” Ichigo shrugged. “But it’s all I have.”

“ _By the way,”_ Ulquiorra said, interrupting Ichigo’s thoughts. _“Today is your birthday.”_

“Yeah.”

_“How old would you be today if you were alive?”_

Ichigo’s stomach soured at the question, “Fifteen.”

_“Just the right age to be a shifter,”_ Ulquiorra murmured. _“Anything too young explodes and anything too old disintegrates.”_ Ichigo couldn’t help but think that he was learning useful information. He licked his lips, listening attentively to his Master speak. _“Humans are such fragile things.”_

_“It’s a wonder why we need you at all…”_


	10. Nowhere I Could Go

** Part X: Nowhere I Could Go **

_“There was nowhere I could go that wouldn't be you.”_    
― Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex 

* * *

 

_“What are you so giddy about?”_

Ichigo smiled to himself, his chin resting in his hands. He shook his head in dismissal before pushing off his chest and stomach and sitting down on his bottom, his legs folded beneath him. “It’s nothing, Master.”

Ichigo inhaled the sweet scent deeply. There was something comforting about it and no matter the length of time, he would never forget that scent. The sweet, honey-filled air could even overpower the strong odor of the meal in front of him. _“Ah. I see.”_

Ichigo thought his Master would be angry with him, but Ulquiorra only seemed amused. Ichigo chided himself for getting so excited. What reason did he have to act such a way? He was nearly bouncing in anticipation.

“Ichigo Kurosaki!” Ichigo slowly turned to look at the blue haired shifter. He nodded in greeting and returned his attention to the meal in front of him. “What? Aren’t you surprised? What sort of greeting is that?”

 “Hello, Grimmjow,” Ichigo added for good measure, doing his best not to smile like an idiot. “I could smell you miles away. I’m not surprised…”

“Well, damn,” Grimmjow pouted, dropping from a low branch. “And here I thought I was being sneaky.”

“It’s been a while.” Ichigo murmured around a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, it has. I suppose it’s been around…” Grimmjow trailed off thoughtfully.

“Three years and four months, but who’s counting?” Ichigo replied, his brown eyes narrowing at Grimmjow. “I’m not.” He gestured to the game in front of him. “Hungry?”

“Famished.” Grimmjow accepted, sitting down on the ground beside Ichigo. He grabbed a leg, ripping the tendons and sinew from the bone. “Has it really been that long? Crazy…”

“So, I’m not complaining, exactly, but what brings you here?” Ichigo questioned, removing another strip of meat from the fire.

“Huh? Well, nothing really. I got bored.” Grimmjow replied.

Ichigo’s face twitched and even he wasn’t sure if it was him or the Master. “Bored, huh?”

“Ah, don’t take it that way,” Grimmjow insisted, wiping the blood that dripped down his chin. “I was just wondering how you were doing.”

“I’m still here.” Ichigo muttered.

Grimmjow nodded knowingly, “The first hundred years that’s all you can be.”

“Oh good,” Ichigo groaned. “Only around 95 years to go.”

“It’s been a while since I saw you,” Grimmjow mused, watching Ichigo intently. “You seem different.”

“How so?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow shrugged, “Would I be in trouble if I said you don’t look as funny-looking?”

“Yes.” Ichigo growled.

Grimmjow smirked handsomely, “Then I didn’t say it.”

“I’m not sure that’s how that works.” Ichigo sighed.

“But really, you look… bigger…” Grimmjow realized, studying Ichigo with interest. “And you lost your baby fat.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been three years… People change.” Ichigo reasoned.

Grimmjow shook his head, his brows furrowed, “Yeah, but shifters don’t change. Not like that. Not so fast.”

Ichigo forced a tight smile, “I guess you’re just lucky then. You won’t have to look at my weird face much longer.”

Grimmjow laughed, tossing the cleaned bone aside, “Don’t be sour.”

“I’m not.” Ichigo huffed.

“Yeah you are.” Grimmjow teased, poking his finger into Ichigo’s side. “You’re not still mad at me, are ya?”

“Well, I wasn’t mad until you called me weird-looking. That definitely added a new layer to our friendship…” Ichigo said.

“I didn’t call ya weird-looking. I said you weren’t so funny-looking. That’s two totally different things…” Grimmjow reasoned.

“Very different.” Ichigo murmured, his brown eyes wide.

Grimmjow smiled guiltily, “My bad.”

“So, beyond being ‘bored’, what’re you doing here?” Ichigo asked, sitting back and rubbing his full, content belly.

“I ran into a Master a year ago,” Grimmjow explained. “He was a real cool guy. I think you’d like him.”

“I doubt that.” Ichigo scoffed.

Grimmjow only smiled. He leaned forward and gently brushed his thumb across Ichigo’s face, “You had an eyelash.”

“Oh, thanks.” Ichigo muttered nervously.

“Anyway, he really was an interesting guy. I thought he was going to kill me, especially when he found out who my Master was, but he ended up being…” Grimmjow stopped talking abruptly. “I see you still have your little problem…”

Ichigo lifted his hand to his face, his fingertips pressing to his eyelid. “Yeah.”

Grimmjow made a face, “That’s unfortunate.”

Ichigo wanted to hit Grimmjow with a clever retort, but he had nothing. So he simply sighed, throwing his hands up in the air in gesture, “Equal to or worse than my face?”

Grimmjow laughed; a hearty, throw-your-head-back-and-laugh laugh. He shook his head, and pulled his bottom lip between his sharp teeth, “Your face isn’t unfortunate…” his blue eyes sparked. “At least not anymore.”

“I’m eternally grateful to you, Grimmjow,” Ichigo began. “But I’m not the kinda guy that likes to be teased.”

Grimmjow nodded, his jaw twisted to the side in amusement, “Yeah, sure. I got ya. Sorry. Sorry.”

“You were saying something about another Master,” Ichigo reminded him.

“Ah, yeah, well,” Grimmjow shrugged. “I’ll tell you when we don’t have an audience.”

“ _That makes it more interesting.”_

“So nosey.” Grimmjow clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“He’s like that.” Ichigo murmured, standing up.

“Where’re you going?” Grimmjow asked, following Ichigo’s movements with his eyes.

“I’m gonna take a piss. That okay?” Ichigo asked, rocking back and forth on his feet.

Grimmjow nodded, “Yeah. Sure. Fine with me. Go ahead.”

“Thank you, my liege…” Ichigo teased, bowing at the waist before disappearing into the brush.

“What’re you hiding for?” Grimmjow called out. “It’s not like we have different parts or somethin’.”

“That’s weird for many reasons, Grimmjow.” Ichigo replied, his voice farther away.

“Hey, Ichi,” Grimmjow continued, leaning back on his hands. “Where you headed next?”

“No idea.” Ichigo called back. “Just walking around at this point.”

Grimmjow nodded knowingly, scratching his exposed lower belly, “You’ll be doing that until you die, I’m afraid…”

“Any more good news?” Ichigo asked, emerging from the brush.

Grimmjow grinned, “I’m bored as hell, so you’ll have company for a while.” Ichigo groaned into his hand. “Awww, don’t complain. I’m a blessing…”

“Well, to be honest, I wouldn’t mind having someone to talk to,” Ichigo reasoned. “Even if it is you.”

“Nice.” Grimmjow scoffed.

“I didn’t hurt your little feelings, did I?” Ichigo taunted back, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek.

“Nope. Don’t have any.”

Ichigo smiled, “Good.”

“You’re feisty.” Grimmjow realized. “I like it.”

“It’s been a while.” Ichigo replied with a shrug. “I’m different.”

“Yeah, but,” Grimmjow couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his mind. “That’s not typical shifter behavior. I mean…” Grimmjow shrugged. “Fuck it. Never mind.”

“Come on,” Ichigo commanded. “If you’re walking with me, we’re leaving now.”

Grimmjow groaned, “Already?” Ichigo only smiled. “Alright. Fine. I’m coming.”

* * *

 

“Gross.” Grimmjow snarled. “You’re so poor it hurts me.”

Ichigo made a face, “You’re the one who wanted to come along.”

“Yeah, but I had no idea you were living like this…” Grimmjow replied. “It’s deplorable.”

“Well, sor-ry, but my Master doesn’t give me handouts.” Ichigo retorted.

“Aizen would never live like this.” Grimmjow revealed. “I honestly don’t think he’s ever sat on the ground in his life… This would never work…”

_“He has, but that’s adorable that you think so.”_

“You’re always welcome to stop following me.” Ichigo breathed out.

Grimmjow shrugged, “Yeah. I know. I do what I want.”

“You’re the one complaining…” Ichigo pointed out in frustration.

Grimmjow smirked, “Yeah? So what?”

Ichigo groaned loudly, “For fuck’s sake.”

“You know you love me.” Grimmjow drawled, dipping down in front of Ichigo as they walked.

“I don’t know that.” Ichigo spat, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I was only joking, but you’ve gone and made it awkward…” Grimmjow accused.

“Sure. I’m the one who made it awkward.” Ichigo grumbled.

“Why? Do you think it was your Master?” Grimmjow asked, feigning concern. “Is he to blame?”

“That’s enough from you.” Ichigo decided.

“Oh, man,” Grimmjow chuckled. “We’ve just got back together and you’re already fed up? You’d better toughen up, leather skin.”

“And what does that mean?” Ichigo demanded.

“It’s an old phrase…” Grimmjow explained before breaking into another grin. “I guess it’s really old now, huh?”

“How old are you anyway?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow’s face twitched, “A little over 2 thousand years old.”

“But that’s what you said last time.” Ichigo pointed out. “What, don’t you keep track?”

“What’s the point in that?” Grimmjow breathed. “Haven’t we already had this conversation?”

“Have we?”

“Yeah.” Grimmjow barked. “And it was just as boring the first time. What’s’it matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t.” Ichigo reasoned with a shrug. “I was just trying to figure out what was wrong with you.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.” Grimmjow replied, puffing his chest out proudly.

“Did your mother tell you that?” Ichigo teased.

“No.” Grimmjow said flatly. “Who even knows who that bitch was… I never knew her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Ichigo muttered guiltily.

“Nothin’ for you to be sorry for,” Grimmjow said. “It all happened before your great-great-grandaddy’s great-great grandfather was born.”

“What happened?” Ichigo asked curiously. “You said, ‘it all happened.’”

“My life.” Grimmjow muttered.

“And where’d you come from?” Ichigo pressed.

Grimmjow clicked his tongue and wagged his finger, “Nuh uh uh. We don’t play that game.”

“It’s not a game. I’m just asking some questions.” Ichigo protested.

“I don’t share private information, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow drawled.

Ichigo sighed, shaking his head, “Okay, but if we don’t talk about something this is going to be one hell of a long walk…”

“Well, first things first,” Grimmjow announced. “We’re hitting up the next town. Your clothes are filthy rags. You need new ones. Your bag is covered in who the fuck knows what. You need a new one. You’re too thin. Your rations are unappealing at best, and revolting in honesty. You need more.”

“I don’t have any money.” Ichigo growled. “My Master doesn’t find it necessary.”

“I’ve got money.” Grimmjow said over Ichigo.

“Oh, I couldn’t accept such a generous gift…” Ichigo drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“I insist.” Grimmjow replied.

“It might be nice to eat some fruit.” Ichigo considered, getting a little excited at the prospect.

“I’ll buy you some fruit.” Grimmjow agreed. “Cause I’m just such a nice guy.”

Ichigo pursed his lips together before responding, “If you get me some grapes, I’ll call you whatever you want…”

* * *

 

“Yes, I need a room for me and my wife…” Grimmjow’s voice carried all the way across the road to where Ichigo stood.

Ichigo turned and glared, his finger slicing through the air threateningly. The man looked toward him, nearly catching the rude gesture. He nodded slowly and they began to haggle over a price. Ichigo learned quickly that Grimmjow never paid full price for anything, ever.

“Alright. I got us a small room for a week.” Grimmjow explained as he approached. “That’ll give us time to get you a new set of clothes.”

“I hate you.”

“Aww, that hurts my heart, Ichigo.” Grimmjow mocked, slapping his hand over his chest.

“Then stop calling me your wife.” Ichigo snapped. “I swear it, I’ll kill you…”

“Don’t I know it… You’re kinda mean, Ichi…” Grimmjow mumbled. “Listen, it’s cheaper if I say you’re my wife. Plus, two men traveling together is suspicious. Men are much more dangerous than a family…”

Ichigo could almost see Grimmjow’s point, so he shook his head, “Whatever.”

“Just because I can live through everything doesn’t mean I want to.” Grimmjow added. “I’d rather not get chopped up and tortured.”

“Have you considered that lying would only seem worse?” Ichigo questioned.

“Yeah, trust me, no one knows I’m lying…” Grimmjow explained. “You’re young. You’ve got long eyelashes and a pretty face. And in those Macedonian clothes, you show just enough to look good but not enough to spoil the _surprise_ … If ya know what I’m saying…”

Ichigo made a face, “I’m wearing boy’s clothes.”

“In Macedonia, sure.” Grimmjow agreed. “But when most people here just walk around naked, you look really feminine in that.”

Ichigo bit back his reply; he realized he was being childish at this point. He nodded, folding his arms over his chest. Grimmjow noticed how the young shifter’s body had changed over the last three years. He was thicker in the middle, thinner in the face, and his arms were chiseled attractively.

“Come on,” Grimmjow instructed, looking away quickly. “Let’s get you measured.”

By nightfall a different sort of vendor was in the streets. A woman grabbed hold of Grimmjow crudely and she leaned in closely, offering her services. Grimmjow’s hand peeled the woman’s off and he flung her away, his mouth twitching in irritation. “We’d better return to our room,” Grimmjow breathed out.

“I’ve never seen anyone get propositioned as much as you do.” Ichigo mused, following behind Grimmjow through the crowded street.

“Look at me.” Grimmjow breathed out. “I’d fuck me.”

“Such modesty.”

“In another thousand years or so, when you grow up a bit more, they’ll be all over you too.” Grimmjow assured Ichigo with a wink.

“No thanks.” Ichigo muttered. “I’m good.”

“They have to make a living like everyone else.” Grimmjow said suddenly. “I mean, I don’t have to pay for it, but I certainly ain’t against it from time to time.” Grimmjow smirked. “Besides, it’s cheaper than keeping a wife.”

Ichigo frowned, his brows knitting together in distaste, “You’re unbelievable.”

Grimmjow grinned wider, “I know. Ain’t I?”

“It’s not cute.” Ichigo groaned.

“Sure it is.” Grimmjow argued playfully, his shoulder nudging against Ichigo’s.

“I don’t know how anyone deals with you.” Ichigo shook his head in bewilderment.

“They don’t have to.” Grimmjow shrugged. “At least not for very long.”

* * *

 

Ichigo blinked awake. It took him a moment for the sleep to wash away from his eyes. As soon as the room came into focus, he realized that there was another person inside. He laid on the bare ground, making out the shapes of two people in the darkness.

The air was thick. He could nearly taste the sweat and salt in the room. He blinked sleepily. And then he comprehended what he was seeing at last. He groaned in disgust and rolled over, pulling his shirt above his head. There was a soft murmur and a moan and the sound of two bodies meeting each other.

It felt like an eternity later that the door opened and the other person slinked away. Grimmjow splashed himself with water from a clay vase, rubbing his skin hurriedly. He patted himself dry, his palms slapping against his exposed flesh. “You awake over there?”

“Nope.” Ichigo muttered.

“Good.” Grimmjow breathed out, pulling his pants on.

“You should do that sort of thing somewhere else…” Ichigo suggested, rolling over and staring up at the ceiling.

“I thought you were asleep…” Grimmjow grunted, running his hands through his hair.

“I was.” Ichigo replied. “And then your gross, heavy breathing woke me up.”

“Gross…” Grimmjow repeated the word, offended.

“Then do it somewhere else then.” Ichigo insisted.

“Where? A back alley?” Grimmjow reasoned. “I mean, I don’t mind, but it’s kinda… uh…”

“Gross?” Ichigo suggested.

Grimmjow made a face, “Is that the only word you know?”

“No.” Ichigo said, sticking his tongue out and rolling his eyes.

“Fornicating in an alley is how you get robbed and left for dead.” Grimmjow pointed out. “And as a general rule of thumb, the person you’re fucking doesn’t get back up after they die.”

“I never expected you to be so safety conscious.” Ichigo murmured, using his arm as a pillow.

Grimmjow shrugged, “It is fucking exhausting to die all the time.”

“I know that already.” Ichigo agreed.

Grimmjow shook his head, “No. You may think you know, but you’ve no fucking idea…”

“I don’t?” Ichigo arched a brow skeptically.

“Imagine dying of starvation and thirst every four days for a century. Imagine being stabbed a thousand times. Or set on fire. Or drowned. Or any of the hundreds of ways I’ve died.” Grimmjow barked. “Five years, a hundred deaths, that’s fucking nothing.”

“I’m too tired to argue.” Ichigo mumbled, closing his eyes and snuggling into his arm. “Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m… I’m not mad…” Grimmjow groaned, feeling a bit embarrassed by his outburst. “Go back to sleep then.”

“I am.”

Grimmjow made a face, “Good.”

“Shhhhh….”

Grimmjow’s face twitched, screwing up in anger, “You little shit!”

Ichigo smiled, his eyes blinking open, “Just go to bed.”

“I will when I feel like it!” Grimmjow snapped.

“Goodnight.” Ichigo said simply.

Grimmjow bristled, his arms folding over his chest. He hesitated for a moment before spitting out, “Goodnight.”

* * *

 

“I like it here.” Ichigo decided, swimming slowly from one of the pond to the other.

Grimmjow stripped naked, tossing his clothes carelessly to the ground. He nodded, stretching his arms over his head. “It’s nice.”

“You ever think of settling down someplace?” Ichigo asked, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his wet skin.

Grimmjow laughed bitterly, “Damn. You know, that’d be great. But it’s not like that for our kind.”

“Even when you’re out of your contract?” Ichigo asked, treading water.

“No matter when or where.” Grimmjow said simply, lying down on his stomach to sun. His skin was already the color of golden wheat, something that Ichigo found quite becoming. “There’s something about the curse.” Grimmjow dropped his head between his hands. “It brings out the worst of people. And eventually even the best places and the best people become like Hell.”

“That’s why the Council lives away from all that.” Grimmjow pointed out. “Because humans and shifters don’t mix.”

“They always seem to like you.” Ichigo mentioned.

Grimmjow nodded. “Yeah. That’s true. For a while.”

“And then they just go crazy or something?” Ichigo wondered.

“Yeah. Pretty much.” Grimmjow agreed. “It’s like we bring out the worst in them. If that makes sense?”

“It does.”

“And humans are not very nice creatures.” Grimmjow murmured. “Especially when they’re scared.”

“What’s the point in living so long?” Ichigo asked.

The question hit Grimmjow harder than he expected. “Beyond being incubators for our Masters?” Grimmjow frowned, his features etched deeply with emotion, “I guess there isn’t one.”


	11. Heart All Aflutter

** Part XI: Heart All Aflutter **

“I have never seen you collect a single fucking soul.” Grimmjow realized one day. “When the fuck do you do it? How?”

Ichigo blinked, his eyes wandering in separate directions as he tried to focus on Grimmjow. He struggled to stop his eyes from transforming further, an embarrassed blush settling across his cheeks. “We only do it when we have to.”

Grimmjow noted the ‘we’ and it made him frown. “And what does that mean?”

“We usually collect everything we need over two or three days. Then we’re done for the whole month.” Ichigo explained.

Grimmjow shook his head, “Don’t say ‘we’. That’s fucked up.”

Ichigo sighed, “It’s my duty to collect it for him. I do it. He’s there. It’s a process _we_ are both a part of.”

“Just don’t sound right.” Grimmjow muttered. “You’re not a team, Ichi.”

“I realize that.” Ichigo nodded patiently. “Why does it bother you so much?”

_“I make him nervous.”_

Grimmjow and Ichigo looked at each other. Grimmjow leaned forward, knocking his fist over Ichigo’s head, “Like hell you do.”

“Ow! What the hell?! That’s my head, you bastard!” Ichigo snarled, rubbing his head sorely.

Grimmjow laughed, “Don’t be a baby.”

“You’re the worst.” Ichigo groaned, putting a safe distance between him and Grimmjow.

“Am I?” Grimmjow arched a brow. “Really? Out of everyone you’ve ever met? I’m even worse than your Master?”

“Now who’s being a baby?” Ichigo retorted, his lips pursed in irritation.

“I will kick your ass.” Grimmjow challenged. “I don’t care. I will.”

Ichigo smiled, “You’re welcome to try.”

_“Shut up.”_

The shifters were both obediently silent until Grimmjow finally spoke up, “You can order him around, but I’m a free man. I don’t have to listen to you.”

Ichigo didn’t even realize he was moving until Grimmjow was on the ground. Grimmjow’s face and throat were slashed and blood gushed and poured from his wounds. Grimmjow’s hand was wrapped tightly around Ichigo’s wrist, and despite his injuries, he wouldn’t let go. “It’ll take more than that,” Grimmjow growled. “To bend me.”

Grimmjow bled out, his fingers locked in a death grip around Ichigo’s arm. Grimmjow’s head snapped back up as he revived. He stood, his claws taking a huge chunk from Ichigo’s inner wrist. “Damn it…” Ichigo cursed, clutching the injury with a mixture of horror and agony whirling inside of him.

_“I’ll put you down for good.”_

“You can explain to Aizen why his guts are fucked then. Go ahead.” Grimmjow barked, throwing his arms out in gesture. “Come on. I fucking dare you.”

“Stop!” Ichigo shouted, to no avail.

Ichigo’s body moved against his will. Blood sloshed against his flesh as his claws sliced Grimmjow’s body like a whip. In seconds he had flayed most of Grimmjow’s skin off his chest. And then, in a burst of pure rage, Ichigo’s fist punched a hole through Grimmjow’s throat. Grimmjow collapsed to the ground in a puddle of his own blood, choking violently in his last agonizing moments.

“Fuck… you…” Grimmjow choked out a minute or two later. He pulled himself to his feet again, squaring off against the Master inside of Ichigo.

_“You want more?”_

“You can kill me a million times.” Grimmjow said with effort, trying to catch his breath. “But you and I both know you lost just now.”

Ichigo’s face dropped, his eyes flashing green. He hardly resembled the shifter anymore. He was truly terrifying, standing there, _“And how is that?”_

“You just told me you’re afraid of Aizen.” Grimmjow whispered, his hand ruffling through Ichigo’s hair just to piss the Master off. “That’s all I need to know.”

Blood dripped from Grimmjow’s mouth, spilling over his lips and down his chin. He choked and spit, sputtering his severed tongue into the grass. Ichigo smiled from ear to ear, _“I don’t care what you think you know. As long as you’re afraid of me, that’s all I need to know.”_

* * *

 

“Aw, come on! You’re not still mad at me, are ya?” Grimmjow groaned, bouncing from one foot to the other impatiently. Ichigo turned to look at Grimmjow, he eyed him pointedly from top to bottom, his lips pursed in annoyance. “Awwwww… I guess you are…” Grimmjow drawled in amusement. “Even though I’ve been spending all sorts of money on ya…”

“I’m not cheap.” Ichigo murmured, fingering a fine bronze mirror.

“Yeah, well, neither’s that.” Grimmjow nearly purred, his chest pressing against Ichigo’s back as he leaned around him to inspect the mirror. He shrugged and locked his eyes on Ichigo, “Want it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ichigo hissed. “What the hell am I going to do with something like that?”

“Know when you need to brush that messy hair.” Grimmjow suggested, snapping his fingers at the vendor. “We’ll take it.”

“No, Grimmjow…” Ichigo groaned, shaking his head. “Seriously, I’ll just lose it.”

“Then I’ll buy you a new one,” Grimmjow insisted, exchanging coils of silver with the vendor.

“I won’t forgive you because you bought me a mirror.” Ichigo said simply. “Or new clothes or…” Ichigo trailed off, feeling like a child.

Grimmjow only smiled in response. He finished purchasing the mirror and they walked off, seeking some shade under a large Cyprus. Ichigo sat down on the ground, his legs folded beneath him. Grimmjow sat next to him, his long legs stretched out. He looked over at Ichigo, watching him intently; he tucked the mirror into Ichigo’s broad belt. “I’m sorry, Ichi.”

“Oh yeah?” Ichigo asked, his jaw held tightly. “What for?”

“I’m sorry I got you involved in our fight…” Grimmjow apologized, his face looking wholly unrepentant. “I shouldn’t have fought with Ulquiorra. My bad.” Grimmjow chewed on his lip, “Well, I’d say it was half my fault, half his fault, really…”

Ichigo nodded, “It’s fine.”

“So you’re gonna stop pouting?” Grimmjow asked with a smirk.

“I’m not,” Ichigo began, taking the mirror out of his belt and holding it in his hands. “I’m not pouting.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Ichigo insisted.

“Good. You should be so relieved by my presence; you should be unable to have a negative thought at all.” Grimmjow announced.

“You’re unbelievably humble.” Ichigo teased, shaking his head.

“Well,” Grimmjow sighed. “I’m not like other shifters.”

“Oh yeah?” Ichigo asked, his smile fading as he realized Grimmjow was serious.

Grimmjow nodded, “Nothing is immune to _Love Cervere_.”

“What’s that?” Ichigo questioned.

“Me.” Grimmjow replied. “My ability. I really can take away every worry. I can make anyone as happy or as miserable as I choose. Anyone. Even Masters.”

“Really?” Ichigo wasn’t sure what was more shocking, the information or the fact that Grimmjow was willingly divulging it.

“Really.”

“Then why do you annoy me so much?” Ichigo asked jokingly.

Grimmjow shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t like to use it on you.”

“Why?”

Grimmjow shrugged again, “Well, I use it to torture my enemies, usually. It’s too strong to just casually use it… I don’t know…” Grimmjow tensed. “Enough questions. Gross.”

Ichigo scoffed, “Gross…? You’re just…” Ichigo trailed off. “I think we should leave once my clothes are done.”

“Agreed.” Grimmjow said with a nod.

“I’m heading west.” Ichigo stated. “How about you?”

Grimmjow hesitated before answering, “I just came from the west.”

“Oh. Okay.” Ichigo mumbled.

“But it’s pretty nice out west.” Grimmjow reasoned, scratching his stomach. “I don’t think I’d mind going back that way in a year or two.”

“Oh. Okay.” Ichigo repeated, trying not to sound too affected by Grimmjow’s answer.

“There’s only so many places to go.” Grimmjow noted. “I don’t look like any of these people, but it only gets more obvious the more south and east I go.”

“Where are you fr-”

Grimmjow clicked his tongue loudly, shaking his head in refusal, “Nuh uh.”

Ichigo sighed, “Whatever.”

* * *

 

“I like it.” Grimmjow barked, slamming down several coils of silver. “Make him three more just like this one.” Ichigo froze, his hands hovering over the fabric of his new clothes.

“Of course.” The tailor said, bowing his head. “I’ll need another week or two.”

“Sure.” Grimmjow replied, snapping at Ichigo. “You like it don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, it’s not really what I’m used to wearing, but it’s nice…” Ichigo explained, looking down at the clothes with interest.

“Good. Then three more.” Grimmjow repeated to the man. “We’ll be back in a week.”

Grimmjow strode from the tiny shop like a king. He didn’t wait for Ichigo; he knew he’d follow after him. Ichigo caught up, gripping unsurely at the sparse fabric covering him. “Hey, I thought we were leaving?”

Grimmjow shrugged, his bronze-skinned shoulders flexing handsomely, “After your clothes are ready. We already decided that.”

“Yeah, but…” Ichigo stopped talking. He tilted his head from side to side, letting out a frustrated groan. “Okay.”

Grimmjow winked at Ichigo, “Now you’re getting it.”

“I don’t even know what I’m getting.” Ichigo admitted, following the other shifter back to their rented room.

_“This feeling… it’s different…”_

“How so…?” Grimmjow asked before realizing it was the Master who spoke.

_“There’s something there…”_ Ulquiorra breathed. _“Underneath your words.”_

Grimmjow and Ichigo shared a look before Ichigo spoke, “Am I acting different?”

_“Not you, idiot.”_ Ichigo rolled his eyes in annoyance, but by the time his eyes came to rest they were distractingly green. _“I was speaking to Aizen’s slave.”_

“Aizen’s slave…” Grimmjow mumbled harshly. He pushed open the door to their room, letting Ichigo pass inside first. “What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Leave it be.” Ichigo warned, his warm, peach-colored skin blanching.

_“What interest do you have in my slave?”_ Ulquiorra asked.

Grimmjow bristled, “He’s not yours.”

Ichigo, or perhaps Ulquiorra, made a face as if Grimmjow had slapped him. Ichigo nodded, a peculiar expression settling onto his handsome face. _“I understand now.”_

“Oh, yeah?” Grimmjow drawled, watching the shifter, and Master, with cautious eyes. “And wha’do’ya figure?”

_“You wish to mate with my slave.”_ Ulquiorra accused, dragging one of Ichigo’s fingers across Grimmjow’s clavicle. _“I’m afraid that’s a rather pointless act. It’s pure folly.”_

Grimmjow was silent for a moment before erupting into laughter, “Oh, please… And I assume you’re some sort of expert?”

Ulquiorra was pissed at Grimmjow’s reaction to his revelation, _“I am. I know the darkness in humanity…”_

Grimmjow waved his hand dismissively, “You don’t know nothin’ about me.”

_“I’ve seen it a thousand times, even with my own kind…”_

“You don’t know nothin’ bout me.” Grimmjow repeated firmly. “Now quit talkin’ to me. You know I fucking hate you.”

And then unexpectedly came the reply, “ _The feeling is mutual.”_

Grimmjow smirked, “Brilliant. You’ve no idea how fucking happy that makes me. My chest feels all aflutter. Honest. I just hate you so much…”

_“No. Not that.”_ Ulquiorra corrected. Ichigo’s skin grew paler and paler. Grimmjow swallowed uncomfortably, worried for the young shifter’s safety. Ulquiorra reached out, stroking Grimmjow’s cheek with an insipid, clawed hand. _“This filthy little beast wants you too.”_

Grimmjow was silent, Ichigo’s face twitched before splitting into an eerie grin, _“Is your heart not still ‘all aflutter’?”_

* * *

 

Ichigo blinked awake. His tongue ached, a result of being too dry. He smacked his lips and looked around weakly. “Whoa… what happened?”

“You fainted. Again.” Grimmjow replied, spooning porridge into Ichigo’s mouth without warning.

Ichigo’s cheeks puffed out as he chewed, trying to sit up. He finally managed to swallow. “What? Why?”

“Don’t know.” Grimmjow replied simply, refilling the spoon. “You started bleeding from the eyes and… and then passed out…” Grimmjow pushed the spoon past Ichigo’s lips. “That was a week ago.”

“A ‘eek ag’o?” Ichigo gasped around a mouthful of food.

“Yeah.” Grimmjow seemed to hesitate before adding, “Your Master came out. I don’t know where he went.”

“What?!” Ichigo pressed his hands to his chest. He couldn’t believe it. Was he really alone?

“Now that you’re awake,” Grimmjow sighed, dropping the bowl of porridge between his legs. He shook his head and shuddered before dropping to the floor beside Ichigo. “I’m goin’ to sleep.”

Ichigo blinked unsurely before nodding, “Okay. Good night.”

“Shhhh…” Grimmjow murmured. “Too tired to talk…”

Ichigo watched Grimmjow fall asleep before taking the bowl out from between his legs. He ate silently, listening to Grimmjow’s even, heavy breathing. The sweet scent of honey and jasmine filled the air and Ichigo thought he might fall back asleep. He stood up and stepped over Grimmjow, pushing the door open a crack to peer outside.

The sun was warm on his skin and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. He inhaled the fresh air, a little disappointed it didn’t smell nearly as sweet as inside the small room. _“It’s too bright. Shut the door.”_

Ichigo jumped in surprise, spinning around and shutting the door behind him. The Master was leaning against the wall, his feet on both sides of Grimmjow’s head. His eyes glowed in the darkness, his papery white skin nearly shining. A bit of sunlight streamed in from the window, illuminating his muscled but narrow chest.

“You’re back.”

_“Yes.”_

Ichigo nodded in response.

_“He’s been taking care of you.”_ Ulquiorra said, his dark, thick lashes fluttering open and closed. _“It’s rather amusing.”_

“Why’s that?” Ichigo asked, his back to the door, his hands still wrapped around the knob.

_“An ancient creature like him, taking care of a worthless thing like you…”_ Ulquiorra’s face seemed incapable of showing emotion. _“Don’t you feel ashamed of yourself?”_

“Not really.” Ichigo answered with a shrug. “Should I?”

Ulquiorra stepped forward and around Grimmjow’s sleeping form as if it was a completely natural movement for him. He closed the distance between himself and Ichigo and lifted his hand. He pressed his white fingers against Ichigo’s lips. _“Yes.”_ Ichigo wanted to dip out from under Ulquiorra’s touch, but he remained in place. The Master brushed his hand across Ichigo’s warm, smooth cheek before slapping his hand roughly against it. _“You should be.”_

Ichigo inhaled quietly, as if even breathing would set off his Master. His hand ached, clenching the knob so tightly. He looked his Master in the eye, mustering up as much defiance as he could brave. The Master touched his lips again, his fingertips sliding his lips apart slowly. And then the Master’s lips touched his. Ichigo gasped, the kiss sending his head reeling. But the Master kissed harder, his teeth tearing into Ichigo’s lip. Blood mixed between their tongues and then the kiss was over and the Master was back inside of him.

Ichigo stood there, feeling beyond bewildered. He wiped his face with his forearm, the blood smearing over his skin. He could feel the Master inside, listening, waiting for something.

* * *

 

“What’s eatin’ you?” Grimmjow asked, plucking a grape from the vine and popping it into his mouth.

“Nothing.” Ichigo murmured, looking around the crowded marketplace.

“Hey, wait!” One of the men yelled after Grimmjow, who continued snacking down the line of carts.

“Doesn’t look like nothin’.” Grimmjow pressed, ignoring the human as if he couldn’t hear him.

Ichigo sighed heavily, his fingers rubbing at his temples, “It’s nothing. Really.”

“Excuse me! Hey! Hey!”

Grimmjow turned in annoyance, his blue eyes settling on the much smaller man chasing after him. The man stammered into silence, the anger dissolving from his features. Grimmjow smirked, tilting his head to the side. His white teeth flashed handsomely and he leaned forward with a charming smile, “You don’t mind do ya? It was just a little bite.”

“Uh, no…” the man agreed, shaking and then nodding his head. “It’s nothing. Go ahead.”

Grimmjow turned back to Ichigo and shrugged in gesture, his arms wide open. “What?”

Ichigo shook his head, “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you thought it…” Grimmjow argued, arching a brow.

Ichigo chuckled, mostly to himself, “Whatever. I just don’t know how you do it.”

“Humans love me.” Grimmjow professed. “Actually…everyone loves me.”

“So you say.”

“So I mean.”

Ichigo laughed, brushing his hand over a fine silk cloak. “Whatever.”

“Whatever. Whatever. That’s all you ever say…” Grimmjow said, clicking his tongue. He leaned in closely, his breath tickling Ichigo’s ear. “Just so ya know, that’s a woman’s cloak.”

“No it’s…” Ichigo paused, his eyes narrowing skeptically. “It isn’t, is it?”

“It is.” Grimmjow insisted.

“Damn it.” Ichigo groaned, releasing the cloak in consternation.

“You need to assimilate more.” Grimmjow suggested. “The world’s bigger than Mesopotamia.”

“You walk around half-naked.” Ichigo accused. “On purpose! I don’t wanna hear it from you.”

“I dress like I belong here.” Grimmjow maintained. “You dress like a foreigner. That’s stupid. It just draws unwanted attention to you.”

“I would think walking around naked would draw more unwanted attention.” Ichigo argued.

Grimmjow smiled and wriggled his eyebrows, “Well, maybe… Not necessarily unwanted though.”

“It’s time to leave this place.” Ichigo decided, catching yet another woman’s lustful glance toward Grimmjow.

Grimmjow straightened up, sobered up, as Ichigo’s gaze fell on him. He nodded in agreement, his chin jutting forward, “Sure. Yeah. It’s about time.”

“I suppose we’ll be going our separate ways then.” Ichigo realized, stepping to the side to avoid a man running the wrong way through the crowd.

“Oh,” Grimmjow grunted, his hand wrapping around the running man’s wrist. He hoisted the man back, placing him down in front of him. The man pulled out a blade but before anyone could react Grimmjow smacked it away, twisting the other hand behind the man’s back. There was a terrible snap! as the man’s arm fractured under Grimmjow’s hold. “Give it back.”

“What? Let me go! Fuck off!” the man screeched.

“Give it back.” Grimmjow snarled.

“Okay. Okay… You’ve got both my hands… let go…”

Grimmjow released the thief and the man pulled Grimmjow’s sack of strings, coins, from his waistband. Grimmjow snatched his priceless treasure up, shoving it into his pants. He returned his attention to the thief and visibly snarled, his teeth bared. “I’ll kill you.”

“Don’t.” Ichigo interjected. “You got it back.” Grimmjow bristled, his teeth dipping closer and closer to the man’s flesh. “We’ve got an audience,” Ichigo announced. “Just let him go.”

Grimmjow released the man, Ichigo’s words sinking in. He shoved the man away from him in disgust and the thief rolled head over ass through the crowd. Grimmjow made a noise, much like a bark, and shook his head, “Nobody steals my money.”

“You and your treasure…” Ichigo murmured, hooking his arm around Grimmjow’s. He attempted to walk but Grimmjow was stubbornly held in place. Ichigo pushed against the larger shifter but he wouldn’t budge. “Hey! Will you knock it off? Let’s…”

Ichigo trailed off, feeling rather drunk. He looked around dizzily, even his slowest of motions causing him to sway. He clutched his head, panicked until he realized, until he inhaled, the flowery-honey sweet scent in the air. “Grimm…jow…”

Grimmjow caught Ichigo when he fainted, lowering him gently to the ground. All around them people collapsed. Grimmjow walked over them, not even caring about doing so. He pointed at the only person in sight who was still conscious, “Nobody steals my money and gets away with it.”

The thief screamed, his eyes looking all around at the slumbering crowd and then at Grimmjow who loomed just ahead. The thief scrambled to his feet, his hands pressed together in prayer, “Please! Please! Don’t kill me!”

“Do I look like a easy target to you?” Grimmjow asked, his fingertips changing to claws.

“No! No!”

“Do I look like a fuckin’ idiot to you?” Grimmjow asked, his dark skin growing patches of snowy white fur.

“No! Gods! No!”

“Do I look weak to you?” Grimmjow asked, his bones cracking loudly with transformation.

“No! No! Noooooooo!” The man screamed, blood spurting from his lips as the panther landed against his chest, pushing him back to the ground. The panther tore into him, tearing and consuming his flesh. Blood sprayed everywhere, pooling beneath him, covering the people closest to him. The sick gurgling noises died away and the thief’s body stopped twitching. And the panther continued eating, even after the human’s life ebbed away.


	12. The Function of Muscle

** Part XII: The Function of Muscle **

_“The function of muscle is to pull and not to push, except in the case of the genitals and the tongue.”_    
― Leonardo da Vinci

* * *

 

_Ichigo was somewhere new. He was on the ground; cool, white stone beneath him. He looked around the unfamiliar place in awe. He was in a dilapidated building, some sort of ancient ruin. On all sides of him was blue. Blue skies, blue ocean, never ending blue. It was breathtakingly stunning._

_“What is this place?” Ichigo wondered aloud, climbing to his feet._

_“Nowhere.” Grimmjow answered, appearing suddenly against one of the crumbling, white stone walls._

_“It’s beautiful.” Ichigo breathed out, ignoring Grimmjow’s bad-mannered reply._

_“Yeah, I guess it is…” Grimmjow replied, staring out the window at the ocean, his arms folded over his chest. His blue eyes were sad, longing. It took a moment for Ichigo to realize how he was dressed. It was quite an unusual style with much too much excess fabric on his pants. It was finely sewn and adorned with beads and jewels._

_“Am I awake?” Ichigo questioned, the salty sea breeze ruffling his hair._

_“Nope.” Grimmjow said simply and he turned to face Ichigo._

_“Where are we?” Ichigo asked again._

_Grimmjow let his head fall back against the stone wall. He banged his head against the cracked stone for show, “I told ya… We’re…”_

_“This is your home, isn’t it?” Ichigo interrupted, nodding in realization._

_Grimmjow was uncharacteristically quiet for a stretch of time, “It was.”_

_“I’ve never seen any place like this.” Ichigo admitted, leaning against the window. It wasn’t necessary to look out the window; the entire stone construct was open-aired. Sea foam crackled against the rocks beneath them, the waves crashed over and over, and the sound of busy birds filled the air. “Why on Earth are you walking around with me?”_

_Grimmjow smiled softly, a rather vulnerable expression, “I can’t go back.”_

_“Why not?” Ichigo demanded._

_“It’s not someplace I can walk to.” Grimmjow sighed. “I’ve travelled from one side of Eurasia to the next. And even if I could, it’s not there anymore.”_

_Ichigo wanted to ask more questions, but he realized it was pointless. He cleared his throat and placed his hand on Grimmjow’s shoulder comfortingly, “I’m sorry.”_

_“Nothing for you to be sorry about…” Grimmjow barked, pushing off from the broken wall._

_Ichigo smiled, “Thanks for showing me this place.”_

_Grimmjow made a face, surprised or perhaps perplexed, “You’re welcome. It wasn’t on purpose or nothin’. I just didn’t have the time to think about it… ”_

_“Think about what?” Ichigo pressed._

_Grimmjow shrugged without answering. He strode over to a cracked staircase and nodded in gesture, “You coming?”_

_Ichigo didn’t ask any questions. He followed Grimmjow wordlessly, taking the steep and narrow steps downward one shattered step at a time. Eventually they came out on a beautiful white sand beach. Grimmjow offered his hand for balance as Ichigo sank into the soft sand._

_“Wow.” It was stupid, but it was all Ichigo could say._

_On the beach, Ichigo could see that many open-air stone constructs littered the cliffs above the beach. There were dozens of them, several with patches of blue fabric fluttering like sails. They had no roofs or doors by design, but all had fallen into a tragic state of disrepair, their walls falling into the sea._

_Grimmjow kicked his strange, curled toe shoes off before stripping off his clothes. He left his jewelry; beautiful, thick gold pieces that only made his skin look tanner. He ran his hands through his hair and then bolted through the sand and into the tide. He ran until the water hit his hips and then he dived into the blue-clear ocean._

_Ichigo found a dry spot and sat down, his legs folded beneath him. He watched Grimmjow swim in the ocean, the sun warming his face pleasantly. The air was salty and cool and the sand was nothing like back home. Nearby, on a protruding rock, an iguana sunned itself. Ichigo watched the reptile with interest until it finally grew tired and dived into the sea._

_“Aren’t ya coming?” Grimmjow called out, walking toward Ichigo, his damp hair slicked back._

_Ichigo made a face and shrugged, “You go ahead.”_

_Grimmjow shook his head in refusal, his hand wrapping around Ichigo’s wrist, “Nuh uh. You’re halfway around the world. You’ve never been here before. You may never be back…” Grimmjow smiled handsomely and it made something clench inside Ichigo’s stomach. “Be here now.”_

Be here now _, Ichigo thought, a smile slipping across his face unconsciously._

_“Come on.” Grimmjow encouraged, leading Ichigo into the tide. “What do you want to do?”_

_“What do I want to do?” Ichigo wondered unsurely._

_“Yeah.” Grimmjow urged. “There’s only two people in the whole world right now. You and me.” Grimmjow paused, the waves rushing against, between, through their legs. “What would you do, if you could do anything?” God, his smile was infectious. Grimmjow licked his lips, the sun beaming down around him like a halo, “This is freedom.”_

_And, caught up in Grimmjow’s honeyed words, Ichigo did exactly as he wanted. He held onto Grimmjow firmly, steadying himself against the constant waves, and he pushed himself up, the wet sand splaying between his toes, and they kissed._

When Ichigo woke he was lying down in the grass. He blinked slowly, the fog of confusion slipping away slowly. He exhaled a lungful of cold air, the scent was peculiarly sweet and fragrant. Ichigo sat up and looked around. He didn’t know how he got there, beneath the shade of an old tree. His new belongings were in the sack leaning against the trunk of the tree.

He had been having a dream. And as he began to remember the contents his face flushed with color. He covered his face and breathed into his hands. That dream…

“Wakey, wakey.” Grimmjow called out, walking up with a grin.

“What the hell?” Ichigo murmured, bringing his knees up to his chest. That dream…

Ichigo touched his lips. It was a dream, right? Ichigo looked up as Grimmjow crouched in front of him. “Alright. Ready to head out?”

Ichigo nodded sluggishly, “Yeah, sure.”

“You said you were headed west right?” Grimmjow recalled, pushing off the ground and back on his feet. “That’s this way…” Ichigo caught his pack as Grimmjow tossed it to him. “Let’s go.”

“You’re coming?” Ichigo asked, snapping out of his reverie.

“Why not?” Grimmjow muttered. “Nothing else to do.”

Ichigo climbed to his feet, tossing his pack over his shoulder. “Where are we?”

“No idea.” Grimmjow admitted with a shrug. “Does it matter?”

_“You drugged us.”_

Grimmjow turned around slowly, “Maybe.”

“What? Why? When? In the market?” Ichigo shot off his questions.

Grimmjow made a face, “Oh, did I get you too, Ulquiorra?”

_“You did.”_

“Jee, I sure am sorry.” Grimmjow mocked.

“Wait a minute!” Ichigo groaned. “I’m really confused. What’s going on?”

“Keep up, damn it.” Grimmjow snapped. “We’re leaving.”

“What happened in the market? How did I get here?” Ichigo demanded.

“I carried you.”

“And before that?” Ichigo pressed.

Grimmjow licked his lips, “I got pissed off and knocked everyone out, totally on accident by the way.”

“Of course.” Ichigo groaned. “And then?”

“I carried you here.”

“And in-between?” Ichigo barked, growing impatient.

Grimmjow’s face grew mischievous, “Don’t you remember your dream?”

Ichigo’s mouth gaped open and he stammered uncomfortably until Grimmjow started to laugh. Ichigo shook his head and stomped off past Grimmjow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I gave ya a good one, I think.” Grimmjow called after Ichigo.

“I’m gonna kick your ass.” Ichigo declared, pointing at Grimmjow threateningly.

“Awww…” Grimmjow pouted, his lip curving downward in exaggeration. “I thought we were having fun.”

Ichigo touched his lips, heat spreading through his cheeks. He shook his head and cleared his throat loudly. “Whatever.”

“Whatever, whatever…” Grimmjow parroted, following behind Ichigo at a leisurely pace.

“You didn’t kill everyone in that village, did you?” Ichigo asked suddenly, still walking but turning to look at Grimmjow.

“You probably should’ve asked that first.” Grimmjow noted with a shrug.

“Well, I didn’t.”

“What’s it matter anyway?” Grimmjow questioned, rubbing his clawed fingers against his chest. “You’ve killed lots of people too…”

Ichigo made a face, “I was just asking. Shut up.”

“Answer my questions but shut up!” Grimmjow mocked, puffing out his chest and fashioning his gestures like Ichigo’s. “I’m the son of a doctor and I’m better than everyone else… har har…I’m Ichigo…”

Ichigo stopped walking, “I’ll punch you in the nuts if you keep following behind me.”

“But I’m going that way too.”

“You don’t have to go with me. You’re too damn close.” Ichigo barked.

Grimmjow frowned, slowing down, “Is this too close?” Ichigo didn’t answer, only held out his hand in a curled fist. Grimmjow jogged backward. “How ‘bout now?” When Ichigo still didn’t respond, Grimmjow ran quickly back to the tree and shouted, “Am I still too close?”

Ichigo’s fists tightened at his sides, “Why don’t you just go to the ends of the Earth, while you’re at it?!”

* * *

 

_“What did you hallucinate?”_

Ichigo dropped his goatskin of water, spilling it across the dry, cracked earth, “What?”

The Master didn’t miss Ichigo’s reaction. _“What did you hallucinate about?”_

“I’m not sure…” Ichigo lied, turning to see if Grimmjow was returning. There was no sign of the older shifter but Ichigo still couldn’t relax.

_“Do not lie to me.”_

Ichigo busied himself with refilling his water, “A beach somewhere.”

_“Hmmm.”_ The Master clicked thoughtfully. _“And what else?”_

“Big fat lizards that could swim in the ocean.” Ichigo answered.

_“And?”_ the Master was in a curious mood.

Ichigo shrugged, “Blue… lots of blue…” Ichigo blushed. “The water, the sky, everything.”

_“We saw different things.”_ The Master confessed.

“What did you see?” Ichigo pressed.

_“That’s not your concern.”_

“Figures,” Ichigo muttered under his breath.

“Ready?” Grimmjow questioned, striding into view. “I’d like to get a move on.”

“What’s the rush?” Ichigo wondered, pushing off the ground and to his feet.

Grimmjow snorted out through his nose in distaste, “Can’t you smell that?”

Ichigo inhaled deeply before sighing, “What?”

“You need to work on that.” Grimmjow chastised.

“I will.” Ichigo groaned.

Grimmjow brushed his hand over his nose pointedly, “It’s something big. A predator of some sort.”

“Something we need to worry about?” Ichigo wondered, wide-eyed.

Grimmjow shrugged, “There are plenty of humans and rabbits and voles and skinks and so on… But some things are rare and I’d rather not kill them if possible.”

Ichigo nodded, “Okay. I’m surprised you care.”

“Remember this well,” Grimmjow lectured. “If you’re gonna kill something make sure it’s not one of the last two.”

“Huh?”

“Kill none or kill both.” Grimmjow breathed. “Don’t ever leave something as the last of its kind.”

Ichigo nodded but then he realized he had more questions. “But…”

“But nothing.” Grimmjow barked. “Kill none or kill them all.”

Grimmjow’s rant seemed specific. Ichigo nodded, following after Grimmjow quickly, “What happened to your home?”

“Not today. Not ever, Ichigo Kurosaki…” Grimmjow admonished. “We don’t play the question game.”

“It’s a conversation.” Ichigo breathed out. “It won’t kill you.”

“You’re wrong.” Grimmjow snipped, watching Ichigo out of the corner of his eyes. “My father died from conversation. It was so fucking boring he passed out, slipped and fell, and broke his neck…”

Ichigo made a throaty noise. “Whatever. You’re such a pain…”

“I was sharing.” Grimmjow teased. “I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“What did my Master see?” Ichigo asked suddenly, feeling a twitch deep inside. “During his dream or whatever…”

Grimmjow smirked, “Something horribly unpleasant. You’re welcome.”

“Like what?” Ichigo asked, his brows knit together.

Grimmjow frowned, shrugging his shoulder slowly, “Trust me. It was exactly what he deserved.”

“What he deserves? And who decided that? You?”

Grimmjow’s face twitched irritably, “And what do you mean by that?”

“Nothing as dramatic as it sounded…” Ichigo admitted, waving his hand dismissively. “I mean it. Do you pick what a person gets or…?”

“Are you asking me if I made you want to kiss me?” Grimmjow asked, his eyes wide. “Cause I can assure you, you definitely wanted to kiss me…”

Ichigo’s face turned scarlet. He stammered in embarrassment unable to form a coherent thought. He ended up striking Grimmjow in the back with his fist, shoving the older shifter roughly.

“Hey! Hey! Easy!” Grimmjow laughed. “I never said I didn’t wanna too…”

* * *

 

**“Wait here.”** Grimmjow wasn’t sure if it was Ichigo or the Master who had commanded him.

“But I wanna see it.” Grimmjow nearly growled, scrambling after Ichigo.

Ichigo turned suddenly, the edges of his skin blurring. He looked Grimmjow up and down, his jaw set firmly. He blinked and then his eyes transformed, losing all their endearing human qualities. Standing there silently he hardly resembled the young, awkward teen that Grimmjow knew.

“Ichigo?” Grimmjow breathed out, stepping forward unsurely.

Ichigo rippled from view, completely disappearing from sight. Grimmjow felt a shiver, his claws curling from his fingertips. There was nothing natural about shifters, but there was something even more sinister and unusual about Ichigo’s transformation. It was almost as if all the warmth in the air was being absorbed or destroyed.

Grimmjow couldn’t see Ichigo but he could follow the sound of crushed leaves and snapping twigs. Ichigo moved fast, much faster than Grimmjow could comfortably follow. Grimmjow struggled not to transform further than his teeth and claws.

Ichigo dropped down to the ground, his invisible feet sending dust up and into the air. Grimmjow narrowed his eyes. He didn’t even know Ichigo had been in the trees above his head. “What’re ya…” Grimmjow trailed off.

There was a sleepy village just ahead, maybe ten or twelve homes in total. They were farmers, simple people without many opportunities to seek out vice. To Grimmjow, this was a bad place to collect souls. It could hardly be worth the effort to find one or two people with enough corruption inside to collect.

Grimmjow’s wandering mind lost track of Ichigo. Grimmjow sighed, closing his eyes and sharpening his hearing. He pinpointed the other shifter and had to jog to the other side of the village to catch up.

Ichigo slithered into one of the small huts through a window. Grimmjow knew exactly where he was the closer he got; he could actually feel the atmosphere drop. Grimmjow crept silently to the window, watching the scene with great interest.

There was an entire family asleep in the bed on the floor; a father, a mother, and five children, all under ten years old. The mother stirred, pulling the blankets up to her chin with a shiver. One of the children kicked their legs before snuggling closer to their siblings. They hadn’t a worry in the world when suddenly everything ended.

The smallest child was ripped from bed, twirling through the air by some unseen force. The child hardly had time to scream before its skull was crushed. The body fell limp before disappearing completely from view.

The mother woke, clutching at her throat. She looked around the narrow hut, her eyes searching the darkness. She cried out, patting the bed in confusion. She called out a name, but she was too distressed to make any sense to Grimmjow.

Grimmjow watched in sickened awe. It was unbelievable how body after body was yanked into the air. They would struggle, their hands bound at their waists. There would be a stomach-turning snap, their skulls crushed or neck severed. And then they would spin rapidly toward the window before completely vanishing.

It was unnatural, even for a shifter, Grimmjow realized again. He was a large predator and he couldn’t eat a human child whole, let alone two grown humans. Grimmjow turned away from the window, his chin jutting forward, deep in thought. It was cold and his breath unfurled from his lips. He touched his face in shock and looked up, just in time to see a monstrous shadow of something standing behind him.

He gasped aloud and turned but there was nothing. He spun back around and looked back toward the ground. His own shape had been swallowed by the other shadow. It was huge, larger even than the hut behind him. It stood behind him a moment longer before scuttling away, taking the cold air with it.

There was a commotion in the next hut and Grimmjow subconsciously shuddered as he passed. He walked back into the forest slowly, his eyes trained on the ground, almost expecting that shadow to appear. Grimmjow never watched Ichigo collect souls again.

* * *

 

Grimmjow’s breath caught in his throat. He let out a low growl, his fist knocking against the wall loudly, reflexively. The scent of his sweat filled the air, pleasantly sweet yet still musky. He was outside the small building, holding another’s body in place against the wall. Ichigo was inside their rented room, his knees against his chest.

“At least he’s not in the same room this time.” Ichigo spoke aloud.

_“What is wrong with you?”_ Ulquiorra demanded. _“What is so undesirable that he would stoop to mate with a human… of all things…?”_

Ichigo was quiet for a long time, “It’s unusual… two men…”

Ulquiorra didn’t laugh, but Ichigo could feel the fluctuation inside of him, _“All shifters prefer the company of men.”_

“That’s…”

_“All shifters prefer the company of men.”_  Ulquiorra reiterated. _“Don’t make me repeat myself.”_

Ichigo listened to the intimate sounds from outside. He shrugged, “Well, that is a man…”

_“But not you.”_

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t care.” Ichigo snapped.

_“It’s natural for two creatures of the same ilk to mate.”_

Ichigo tried not to answer too rudely, “Well, yeah…”

_“So what is wrong with you?”_

“I don’t know.” Ichigo breathed out.

_“You’re not unattractive for a human born.”_

“I don’t know.”

_“You’re not unintelligent for a slave.”_

Ichigo made a face, “I couldn’t say….”

_“It’s nearly aggravating,”_ Ulquiorra hissed. “ _Why aren’t you good enough?”_

“I’m sorry, Master.” Ichigo chewed out the words.

_“What makes you an uninvited mate?”_

“Master!” Ichigo cried out in frustration. “For god’s sake! Please… I don’t know! It doesn’t matter does it? Why do you even care?”

The Master didn’t reply and eventually Ichigo stopped expecting an answer. He groaned and leaned his head back against the wall. He could sense Grimmjow on the other side, almost as if he could feel his warmth. He could smell his sexual scent and hear his tiny, involuntary sounds. He could imagine how he looked, his muscles rippling from the effort… Ichigo cleared his throat and closed his eyes, willing all those impious thoughts away.

Several minutes later the door to the room was opened and Grimmjow stepped inside. He took one look in Ichigo’s direction before laughing breathily, “I’m back.”

“What’s so funny?” Ichigo asked, rubbing his heated cheeks.

Grimmjow shrugged, busying himself with his coils of silver. “I don’t know. You’re a bit awkward, ain’t ya?”

“And whose fault is that?” Ichigo snapped.

“Mine. At least right now…” Grimmjow admitted, raising his hands in surrender. He turned around and flashed a handsome smile. “Sorry, sorry.” Grimmjow sat on the floor, his legs stretched out across the entire width. He leaned back on his hands and nodded toward Ichigo in gesture. They were so close they nearly touched at the sides. Grimmjow smirked, his blue eyes scanning Ichigo’s face, “What’re you all embarrassed for?”

“I’ll have you know my hearing is pretty damn good.” Ichigo said simply, his eyes wide and bright.

“Oh is that so?” Grimmjow murmured, watching Ichigo with interest.

“Yeah.” Ichigo maintained, shaking his head. “What’re you thinking?”

Grimmjow smiled crookedly, “You ain’t a kid anymore. You’ll survive.”

Grimmjow expected Ichigo to groan or roll his eyes and mutter a ‘whatever’, he certainly didn’t think that Ichigo would roll over onto his knees. He kneeled in front of Grimmjow, his hand held out toward Grimmjow’s face. He stroked Grimmjow’s cheek, scooting closer slowly.

“Hey, uh, what…” Grimmjow trailed off, his blue eyes wide and expectant. Ichigo crawled over Grimmjow’s extended legs. He settled down onto Grimmjow’s lap, his hands still gently caressing the older shifter’s face. Grimmjow swallowed thickly and looked up, startled to find a pair of glowing green eyes staring back at him. “Wait… uh…”

_“Whose fault is it?”_

“Ichi-go…” Grimmjow murmured, his back pressing against the wall as Ichigo’s weight relaxed on top of him. “Your eyes…” Grimmjow trailed off, tearing his gaze away from Ichigo’s handsome face. He couldn’t help it, seeing those eyes made his whole body cold.

Ichigo grabbed Grimmjow’s larger hand in his, pressing his thumb against his eyelid. He moved Grimmjow’s thumb gently, closing his own eye. A single green eye blinked at Grimmjow until Grimmjow lifted his other hand and closed it too. And then Grimmjow’s warm, wet mouth was on Ichigo’s. They kissed heatedly, Grimmjow’s hands dipping to Ichigo’s slender waist.

“Hey, you sure?” Grimmjow asked between kisses, his hands petting Ichigo’s hips impatiently. Ichigo nodded, keeping his eyes closed. Grimmjow nodded too, almost drunkenly, his thumbs hooking under the band of Ichigo’s pants.

 


	13. Properly Humbled

** Part XIII: Properly Humbled **

_"I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle.”_

_“By you, I was properly humbled.”_

-Jane Austen, _Pride and Prejudice_

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure how he felt when he woke up until he realized he was alone.

_“He’s left you.”_

Ichigo didn’t respond.

_“What is wrong with you?”_

Ichigo stood and began pacing the cramped room.

_“Did you think doing such a thing would make him stay?”_

“He didn’t leave me. He left you.” Ichigo breathed into his hands, his face blanched. His hands began to shake and he felt an odd chill in his lungs. He shook his head and continued pacing, his bare feet pounding into the dirt. “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me…”

_“Me?”_

“Yeah, you!” Ichigo shouted, tugging at his short hair. “You scared him off! It wasn’t me…”

_“Don’t be ridiculous.”_ Ulquiorra replied. _“You and I both know, he was looking at me.”_

“No.” Ichigo refused, crouching down. But then he changed, his head nodding, “Yeah. He was. It was you. It wasn’t me…”

_“I did the hard part. And then you couldn’t even keep him here?”_

“It wasn’t me.” Ichigo repeated.

_“I gave him to you on a silver platter.”_

“It wasn’t me. Do you hear me? It wasn’t me!” Ichigo screamed, his head in his hands.

_“Then where did he go?”_

“I don’t know. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.” Ichigo growled, pushing himself back to his feet. “Why do you even care?”

The Master was silent for a few beats, _“Because you’re so useless… so fragile. You need him.”_

“I don’t need anyone.” Ichigo shot back.

“Mornin’!” Grimmjow called out, opening the door and flooding the rented room with bright sunlight. Ichigo’s eyes flashed and Grimmjow paused in the doorway unsurely before coming in. “How’d ya sleep?”

Ichigo could only stare at Grimmjow stupidly. Grimmjow smiled, rubbing the back of his head with his hand, “What’s wrong? Ya didn’t miss me while I was gone, did ya?”

“No.” Ichigo snapped, his hands twisting at his sides.

Grimmjow nodded, propping the door open and lighting the small room. He stepped closer, offering a freshly killed deer carcass to Ichigo. Ichigo looked from the kill to Grimmjow hesitantly before taking the meat. Ichigo looked away “Did you get your share already? Can I cook this?”

“I, uh,” Grimmjow’s face turned red and he paused to clear his throat. “I thought we’d eat it together. You can cook it. I don’t mind, I guess.”

“I’m not a great cook.” Ichigo warned, smiling unsurely.

“I don’t mind.” Grimmjow assured him, leaning in the doorway and watching Ichigo with interest.

“What’re you looking at?” Ichigo asked, feeling beyond foolish and insecure.

“Just lookin’ at ya.”

“Well, don’t…” Ichigo sighed. “It’s weird.”

Grimmjow’s face broke into a wide, impish grin, “Oh? Well, I have a question… Was that you last night or him?” Grimmjow’s smile never faltered. “Or both?”

Ichigo groaned loudly, walking past Grimmjow, their shoulders brushing. He squeezed between Grimmjow and the door and strode outside, carrying their meat. He considered his reply but then couldn’t bring himself to say anything so he simply walked off, his nose turned up in the air.

Grimmjow was highly amused, he called after Ichigo friskily, “I sure hope it was you.”

“Keep dreaming!” Ichigo called back.

“Sure. You’re all over me there too.” Grimmjow shot back.

Ichigo turned around, he looked like he might run back just to punch Grimmjow in the face, but then he settled down, his shoulders relaxing, “I guess you’re not safe anywhere.”

* * *

 

“Where have you been?” Ichigo asked, looking up from the smoking strips of meat.

“I’ve been busy.” Grimmjow replied, waving his hand dismissively. “Aren’t ya done yet?”

“Well, no, it takes a while to dehydrate the meat and…” Ichigo trailed off as Grimmjow grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet.

“There’s no time for that right now.” Grimmjow decided, pulling Ichigo, much more gently now, after him.

“Where are we going?” Ichigo demanded, watching his fire and pit disappear from view.

“We’ve been in and near towns too long.” Grimmjow replied, his hand so warm around Ichigo’s wrist. “It’s time to head into the forest.”

They walked and walked, nearly an hour, until Grimmjow finally stopped. He walked up to an enormous tree and leaned against the trunk, gesturing up.

“What the hell is that?” Ichigo gaped at the unusually large nest situated between the large branches of two intertwining trees. Ichigo was going to laugh but the way Grimmjow’s smile faltered made him pause. He nodded slowly, gripping the lowest branch and climbed.

“It’s uh…”

Ichigo climbed up the tree easily, standing on the thick branch just below the nest. The nest was easily large enough for two grown men. The base was made of expertly braided branches, thin and supple. It had to have taken several hours to weave the nest by hand, even for someone inhuman like Grimmjow. On top of the base were big, broad leaves. They were arranged like a canvas over the wood.

“Am I supposed to sit in it?” Ichigo asked, looking at Grimmjow apologetically.

“Shut the fuck up.” Grimmjow barked.

“I’m sorry!” Ichigo breathed out, climbing up to the next branch up. “I have no idea what this is…”

“It’s a bed.” Grimmjow replied, his blue eyes narrowed. “So you’re not on the ground…”

“Ah, well, thanks…” Ichigo smiled nervously. “This is really neat. How long did it take?”

Grimmjow’s pride was appeased. He grinned widely as he climbed up the tree. “Ah, well, normally it takes a week or so, but I did it in two days.”

“This is where you’ve been?” Ichigo realized.

“Yeah.” Grimmjow answered, jumping onto the branch opposite Ichigo.

“I don’t see you as basket weaver.” Ichigo chuckled. “Is that what you did or something?”

“This isn’t a basket.” Grimmjow said, his arm grabbing the branch above his head. He looked handsome and completely natural in the trees. “It’s a den.”

Grimmjow gestured toward the nest and Ichigo obeyed the unspoken direction, smiling politely as he climbed into the nest. He sat down, his feet folded beneath him. Grimmjow nodded approvingly and Ichigo was just that much more bewildered. “We left the meat behind… I’m confused…”

Grimmjow looked a little insulted but he brushed it off quickly, “I’ll get more.”

“Okay. I’m in the tree, in the basket… What now?” Ichigo asked, his brown eyes wide.

“It’s not a basket.” Grimmjow corrected, growing impatient. “I don’t fucking know. Just sit there. I’ll be back with more food.”

“Uh, Grimmjow?” Ichigo called after him. “Why am I sitting here?”

Grimmjow looked thoroughly confused. And then Ichigo realized Grimmjow didn’t know either. Ichigo smiled indulgently, almost relishing the vulnerable expression on Grimmjow’s face. “Okay. I’ll wait here.” Ichigo decided, settling more comfortably into the ‘den’. “But let me know what the hell I’m supposed to do in here as soon as you figure it out.”

Grimmjow returned shortly, in panther form, his prey still clamped in his mouth. He climbed the tree and dropped the rabbit onto the floor of the nest. Blood stained his snow-white fur. He rubbed firmly against Ichigo, nearly knocking the young shifter over. Ichigo could only laugh, his hand brushing softly over the panther’s head and down his back.

“What are you doing?” Ichigo asked finally, his hand pausing at the base of the panther’s neck. “You’re acting crazy.”

Grimmjow transformed back into his human form. He blinked at Ichigo for a moment, his legs crossing childishly in front of him. He chewed on his claws for a minute before ultimately replying, “I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?” Ichigo asked unsurely.

Grimmjow looked as if he might be ill any moment. He gestured to the dead rabbit impatiently, “I brought you food.”

“What haven’t you done before?” Ichigo pressed.

Grimmjow’s face flushed with color, “I’ve never made a den before, you know, for somebody else…”

Ichigo nodded slowly, “So this is a panther den?”

“No, don’t be a fucking idiot…” Grimmjow snapped. “Can panthers weave?”

“Oh, well, excuse me!” Ichigo exclaimed irritably.

“Sorry…” Grimmjow rolled his head from side to side. He rubbed his neck anxiously. “It’s just so embarrassing…”

“What is?” Ichigo asked, even though he felt pretty embarrassed himself and figured he already knew.

“Just eat.” Grimmjow snarled. “We don’t need to fuckin’ chat.”

“You’ve been warned.” Ichigo whispered threateningly.

“Eat.”

“I’m not eating it raw.”

“Cooking the meat loses important nutrients. Eat it like that.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Damn it! Just fucking eat it while it’s fresh!”

“Don’t fucking order me around!” Ichigo shouted, pressing both hands solidly against Grimmjow’s chest. He knocked the other shifter out of the nest and onto the forest floor below.

Grimmjow let out a pained grunt, falling flat on his back. He stared up at the bottom of the nest, a snarl escaping his lips as Ichigo leaned over the side to look at him. “Back in the damn basket or you’ll fall…”

“It’s not a basket.” Ichigo called down. “It’s a den.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Ichigo clicked his tongue and suddenly both the shifters were laughing. Grimmjow sat up, his broken bones healing rapidly. He climbed to his feet and leapt into the air, reaching for a branch. He scrambled up the tree with ease and was back in the nest before Ichigo could even blink.

“Okay. I was being weird. This is all weird.” Grimmjow admitted.

“It’s weird.” Ichigo agreed. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know. It might make it less weird or it might just make it worse…”Ichigo grabbed the rabbit and started to head back down to the ground. “Wait!”  Ichigo stopped, watching Grimmjow curiously. “You won’t eat it raw?”

“Not willingly.” Ichigo replied.

“I’ll cook it.” Grimmjow decided, taking the rabbit and dropping back to the ground. “You wait there.”

“What’s up with the den, Grimmjow?” Ichigo demanded, lying on his stomach and watching Grimmjow over the side of the nest.

“Hell if I know…” Grimmjow grunted. “It was just something I grew up with, I guess.”

“Really?” Ichigo was surprised. It was astounding to him that the same blue place with white stone constructs would also build nests in the trees.

“Yeah.” Grimmjow replied, he looked up at Ichigo with bright, blue eyes. “But this ain’t story time.”

Ichigo shrugged, “It wouldn’t kill you to talk about yourself.”

“You don’t know that.” Grimmjow argued.

Ichigo sighed, “I’m fairly certain. I was going to be a doctor after all. Talking about your past cannot kill a human. So unless you’re not human…” And that’s when Ichigo realized, decided, that that was true. “You’re not human are you?”

Grimmjow looked up at him with wide, exposed eyes, “Maybe, maybe not.”

“You have to answer me.” Ichigo demanded, tossing his leg over the edge of the nest as he prepare to climb down.

“Wait! No! No!” Grimmjow gasped, standing up worriedly. 

Ichigo was annoyed, but he decided to use Grimmjow’s bizarre behavior against him. “Alright, answer me or I’m just gonna jump.”

“You wouldn’t dare…” Grimmjow growled lowly.

“You shouldn’t care if I jump or not. I’m immortal, remember?” Ichigo taunted, straddling the edge of the nest. “Answer me…”

“Fuckin’ damn it!” Grimmjow snarled, pacing beneath the nest irritably.

“I’ll break my back and probably my neck…” Ichigo reasoned. “Also my legs and arms. It’ll only take a few minutes to heal.”

“Sit down.” Grimmjow ordered, gesturing impatiently with his finger.

Ichigo smiled, his brown eyes burning into Grimmjow’s, “Where are you from, Grimmjow?”

“Damn it.” Grimmjow fumed on the ground below. “Sit and I’ll talk.”

Ichigo slid back safely and well into the nest. He smiled and waved, eliciting a rude response from Grimmjow. “I’m sitting.”

“I’m a… I guess now they’re called Toltec.”

“What’s a Toltec?” Ichigo asked, blinking unsurely.

“See? It doesn’t even matter if I tell ya cause ya’ve got no fuckin’ clue…” Grimmjow complained. He sighed heavily, scratching his stomach. “I’m an Atlantean.”

“Atlantean…”

Grimmjow forced a  smile, shaking his head scathingly, “You’re not very cultured for the son of a doctor.”

“I spoke three languages before I became a shifter!” Ichigo remarked defensively.

“I’m from Atlantis.” Grimmjow said finally.

“ _The_ Atlantis?”

“Atlantis, the love palace of Poseidon and Cleito that sunk into the sea, blah blah, so on and so forth.”

“Wow.” Ichigo wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t that. “I was there? That dream was in Atlantis?”

“Yeah.”

“Your ability… love ca-ce-ve-er…”

“Love cevere.” Grimmjow interjected.

“Is love cevere your shifter ability?” Ichigo asked.

“No.”

“What really happened to Atlantis?” Ichigo questioned.

Grimmjow shook his head, “Don’t jump, but I’m done talkin’.”

Ichigo nodded in understanding. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the information he had received but he was still pleased. He cleared his throat and smiled kindly, “Can I ask one more thing?”

“No.”

Ichigo laughed softly, “What’s with the den?”

Grimmjow considered his reply for a long moment, “Well, where I come from males and fe…females don’t live together.”

“Really? Okay…”

Grimmjow licked his lips, “Except for a few months every two years or so…”

“And the nests?”

“The _den,_ ” Grimmjow enunciated. “Is made by the male and…” And that’s where Grimmjow trailed off. “Fuck, I’m off my rocker.”

“What? Why?” Ichigo wondered.

Grimmjow only shook his head. “Fuckin’ biological regulators or something…” Grimmjow began to count on his fingers, muttering to himself. He looked up at Ichigo, “How old do I look?”

Ichigo shrugged, “Hmm… twenty something?”

Grimmjow nodded in realization, “I must’ve aged recently.” He resumed pacing. “I forget what it feels like since it happens so slowly.”

“This isn’t like an Atlantean graveyard, is it?” Ichigo asked, slightly horrified.

“No. What? No.” Grimmjow frowned.

“Then what is it?”

Grimmjow laughed and sat on the ground, covering his face with his hands. “Nothing you need to worry about… Fuck.”

“What’s the den for?” Ichigo pressed, genuinely curious.

Grimmjow tossed his hands into the air in absolute humiliated surrender, “Having our babies.”

“What the hell?!” Ichigo snapped, sitting up straight.

Grimmjow shrugged, “Sorry, I don’t know, man. I’ve never done it before. Obviously I’m unwell. I probably have dementia or something…”

“I’m getting out now.” Ichigo growled.

“Yeah. Go ahead.” Grimmjow said apologetically.

“You’re not off the hook.” Ichigo warned, climbing down the tree.

“Yeah. I get it.” Grimmjow muttered.

Ichigo walked past Grimmjow and into the forest. He walked as far away as he could manage before doubling over in laughter. He couldn’t believe it. Grimmjow of all people had fallen victim to such an instinct. Ichigo covered his face and laughed into his hands. It was terribly embarrassing but at the same time it warmed his belly. He couldn’t wait to tell his Master that Grimmjow didn’t find anything too wrong with him, after all.

* * *

 

“Get out of there!” Grimmjow barked, folding his arms over his chest.

“No.” Ichigo refused, settling more comfortably into the nest. “It’s mine. You made it for me.”

Grimmjow tapped his foot on the branch irritably, “Then scoot over. There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping on the ground when I spent two days building this piece of shit.”

“It’s not a piece of shit.” Ichigo teased good-naturedly. “It’s a marvel of architecture.”

“You have a mean streak.” Grimmjow accused, his eyes narrowed.

“Well, I am a shifter.” Ichigo replied. “I assume that means I have a terrible character.”

“Yeah, but you’re exceptionally evil, I think.”

Ichigo smiled, making room for Grimmjow beside him. He settled long ways inside the basket, his head propped against the ledge. “You’re sensitive lately. Must be your puberty.”

Grimmjow pressed his claws against Ichigo’s throat in warning, “Watch it.”

“And obviously I hit puberty quite a while ago, dumbass.” Grimmjow added.

Ichigo clicked his tongue, “This is actually really comfortable.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” Ichigo insisted. “This is the most comfortable I’ve ever been outside.”

“All that wasted effort,” Grimmjow groaned, covering his face with his arm. “Nature is cruel.”

“That gypsy woman,” Ichigo remembered. “She said I’d never have a great love… Just shows that fortune telling is fake.”

“Shut up.” Grimmjow growled, his cheeks bright pink.

“This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard of.” Ichigo continued, noting happily that Grimmjow’s claws were harmlessly at his side.

“I’m trying to remember what else she said.” Grimmjow said simply. “Something about us dying horribly, one after the other. Perhaps if I just leap from this basket and you follow…”

“Oh shush.” Ichigo whispered.

“What? I thought you like romance? What’s more romantic than a double suicide?”

“That’s not romantic. That’s tragic.” Ichigo reasoned. “And I never said I was a romantic or anything. I just… I just like the whole idea of making a den for your mate or whatever. I think it’s sweet.”

“Yeah, but 90% of the time we lived alone and didn’t even see our mates…” Grimmjow pointed out.

“Did you have a mate?” Ichigo asked.

“Hell no.” Grimmjow spat.

“Why not?” Ichigo wondered aloud.

Grimmjow sighed heavily, “You don’t need to know that.”

“Oh, I see,” Ichigo murmured. “You were probably too aggressive and unruly and no one wanted to mate with you.”

“I went on an adventure. And when I came back everyone was dead.” Grimmjow admitted.

“How?” Ichigo asked.

“I’m not talking about it anymore.” Grimmjow said with finality, before rolling onto his side, facing away from Ichigo. “We as a people were loners. It doesn’t really bother me.”

“Why are you so reluctant to talk about yourself?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow snarled in irritation. “For fuck sake. Do we have to talk every second of the day?”

“I’m bored.” Ichigo complained, poking Grimmjow’s leg with his foot. “Entertain me.”

Grimmjow rolled over, “And how would you like to be entertained, my liege?”

Ichigo considered his response, “What do you normally do in the den?”

“You mean before the whole… thing…?” Grimmjow questioned.

“Yeah.” Ichigo confirmed. “Before the other person gets fat…”

Grimmjow made a peculiar face, “Well, I guess, you work on getting them there…”

“I won’t get fat.” Ichigo added.

Grimmjow grinned mischievously, “But it might be fun to try…”


	14. Something Wicked

** Part XIV: Something Wicked **

_"By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes." _  
— William Shakespeare, _MacBeth_

* * *

 

Grimmjow blinked awake, his stomach twisting and churning with hunger. He smacked his lips sleepily. One hand absently scratched his lower stomach, the other picked at the sleep that had collected in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m fucking starving.” Grimmjow murmured, his voice deeper and courser from disuse. “I’ll be back.”

Ichigo stirred feebly, a hand reaching out for Grimmjow. Grimmjow pushed himself off his back and onto his feet. He stood, his foot sliding through something wet and warm. Grimmjow made a face, expecting bird shit.

And then the scent hit him. It was overpowering. How could it not have woken him up? Grimmjow covered his nose and mouth and looked down. The base of the den was slightly uneven, the lower part being where Ichigo had slept. The den had become a pool of blood, the only dry spot the sliver of space that Grimmjow had occupied. A bloody foot print was smeared across the bottom.

“Ichigo!” Grimmjow shouted, dropping to his knees. He rolled Ichigo over. The young shifter was pale as a sheet, his lips stained with blood. “What’s going on?”

“I… I don’t… know…” Ichigo whispered, his brown eyes turning green.

“Ichigo!” Grimmjow cried out, shaking the shifter in concern. “What the fuck?!”

Grimmjow couldn’t believe how much blood there was. He pulled Ichigo’s head into his lap, slapping his hand against Ichigo’s colorless cheek. “Why are you bleeding?”

“I… agh…” Ichigo tried to speak. Blood poured past his lips as plentiful as if it were wine instead.

Grimmjow saw Ichigo changing, but he could still hardly believe it. The shifter was disappearing, changing, morphing into his Master, and it was killing him. Grimmjow snarled in frustration, his claws pricking at the skin of Ichigo’s temples. “Damn it.”

“My… uh…” Ichigo tried again. “My…”

“Don’t speak.” Grimmjow murmured, blood soaking into his pants, his skin.

_“Hurts…”_ the word was said in unison by both Master and shifter.

“Okay, well, just wait a minute…” Grimmjow breathed out, trying to think. “Can I move you? Let’s roll onto your side. It’ll keep the blood out of your lungs or something…” Grimmjow shook his head at his own idea. To be honest, he didn’t know what to do at all. “There we go. Like that. Is that better?”

_“Better.”_ They both moaned weakly.

And then there was no longer any sign of Ichigo left. Grimmjow rubbed a shaking hand over the black hair in his lap. His fingertips left bloody prints on the alabaster skin. Ichigo’s muscled arms, developed chest, strong legs; everything; everything had been replaced by someone else. “Where is he?” Grimmjow demanded, dropping the Master’s head off of his lap.

The Master gasped, blood splashed across his colorless skin like war paint. He reached out for Grimmjow, his fingers scraping through thin air. The Master scrambled weakly, bending at unnatural angles, in an attempt to sit up.

“Where’s Ichigo?” Grimmjow shouted, his throat tearing.

“I’m… here…” came a small voice.

Grimmjow shook his head in refusal, his teeth jutting from his mouth threateningly. “No.”

_“He’s weak…”_ the Master groaned. _“Too weak to be of use.”_

“Gr-im-jo-w…” Ichigo whispered.

The hair on Grimmjow’s arms and neck stood up. He let out an involuntary hiss, his skin prickling with gooseflesh. The body began to twitch, like a corpse full of maggots. Grimmjow shook his head again and again.

_“We need your help.”_ The Master admitted, agony evident in his voice.

“I can’t help you.” Grimmjow realized, clambering to the very far edge of the nest.

“Don’t… leave… me…” Ichigo choked out, his hand extended to Grimmjow. “Please…”

“I can’t help you.” Grimmjow repeated, his blue eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t… go...”

“I’m sorry.”

And then Grimmjow leapt to a lower branch, scaling down the tree to the ground, his bare feet pounding the dirt as he ran away.


	15. Where We Are is Hell

** Part XV: Where We Are is Hell **

" _But where we are is hell, And where hell is, there must we ever be."_

— Christopher Marlowe, _Dr. Faustus_

* * *

 

_“Such a fuckin’ mess.”_

_Ichigo looked around in shock. He had fallen to the forest floor a few moments before. The pain had finished him off and when he came to he was in a cave. A man stood over him, large and imposing._

_“Who are you?” Ichigo asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position._

_“You’re the one in my home.” The man growled, the veins in his neck twitching as he spoke._

_“My name is Ichigo Kurosaki.” Ichigo said, blinking up at the large man._

_The man’s glowing green eyes narrowed into slits. He laughed humorlessly and the entire cave seemed to rumble. “I know.”_

_“Oh, well,” Ichigo began._

_“We’ve met.” The man barked, turning away from Ichigo with indifference._

_“Have we?” Ichigo asked curiously before standing. The pain was gone, he realized, and he felt so light. He looked around the cave, his attention taken by the dark, placid lake behind the man. And then Ichigo remembered, realized, he had, in fact, met this person before._

_“You!” Ichigo gasped, pointing at the other man. “You gave me back my memory.”_

_“God damn shifters… Always thinkin’ I owe ‘em shit.”_

_“How did I get here?” Ichigo asked, stepping toward the water as if mesmerized._

_“Nuh uh.” The man clicked his tongue in refusal. “Don’t touch the water.”_

_“Okay.” Ichigo nodded his head slowly, still unable to turn away from it._

_“You’re here because I brought you here.” The man said suddenly._

_“What?” Ichigo’s brows knit together in concern. “You did? Why? How?”_

_“I don’t know. I was being stupid.” The man snorted, thick, grey smoke jetting from his nostrils._

_“Who are you?” Ichigo asked again._

_“I have a few names.” The man said, leaning against the stone behind him._

_“What should I call you?” Ichigo pressed._

_“Don’t care.” The man barked. “You won’t be here long.”_

_“What do your friends call you?” Ichigo tried again._

_“I don’t have any.” Ichigo nodded, it made sense. The man snorted in amusement, almost as if he had read Ichigo’s thoughts.  “I’m the Dragon of Xibalba.”_

_“You don’t look like a dragon.” Ichigo noted, kicking a small stone beneath his foot._

_The entire cavern shook violently. The ground shuddered and the walls began to expand and contract. Giant lungs, Ichigo thought before falling to the ground. The man disappeared into the shadows and a pair of glowing green eyes stared at him._

_“Okay.” Ichigo nodded, his fingers curling into the earth beneath him. “You’re a dragon.”_

_“And you’re dead.” The dragon growled, the entire world rumbling._

_“I’m dead?” Ichigo asked._

_The dragon sighed in annoyance, a spark igniting deep in his throat. Smoke billowed over his tongue, past his teeth, and through his lips. “You will be soon.”_

_“This is hell.” Ichigo murmured, the intensifying heat blistering his exposed skin._

_“This is hell.” The dragon man confirmed. “For me and my kind, at least.”_

_“I don’t want to die like this.” Ichigo realized, the reality sinking in. “God, I was so fucking stupid.”_

_The cave settled and the man reemerged, his green eyes lit brilliantly. “You’ve got shit luck, kid.”_

_“I’m really dead? I mean… he… Ulquiorra… what did he do? What happened to me?” Ichigo began to rattle off._

_“Keep calm. Ya ain’t dead yet.”_

_“I’m not?”_

_“Not completely.”_

_“But…”_

_“That’s why I brought you here.”_

_Ichigo’s brown eyes widened in shock, “You saved me? Why?”_

_“Don’t get excited. I’m not a nice guy.” The man drawled. “I did it for myself.”_

_“What do you mean?” Ichigo wondered._

_“I can’t fuckin’ stand Murcielago.” The man snapped. “He’s one of the three I would just fuckin’ rip off their fuckin’ heads and just fucking skull fu-”_

_“Ah, excuse me!” Ichigo interjected. “Murcielago is my Master, right?”_

_“Yeah.” The man answered, regaining his composure. “And he was getting close to getting out. That’s your fault. So I don’t particularly like you either, kid.”_

_“Where is he?” Ichigo wondered, feeling his body unsurely._

_“Not here. For now.”_

_“I’m sorry.” Ichigo apologized, breathing in sharply._

_“Ah, well, don’t say sorry…” the man muttered, looking away as he wiped his mouth. “… fucking…”_

_“You saved me.” Ichigo said softly._

_“Yeah, well, I won’t be able to help you next time.” The man breathed. “He’ll be too strong by then. You’ll really die.”_

_“What can I do?” Ichigo questioned._

_The man licked his teeth, “I don’t think there’s anything you can do differently. The damage is done.”_

_“I understand.” Ichigo murmured, looking down. “Thank you.”_

_“Don’t thank me…”_

_“Thank you.” Ichigo repeated, meeting the man’s gaze._

_“You, uh, got so sick because he’s replacing parts of you.” the man explained suddenly. “Usually it’s one part per shifter, but that’s not what he’s doing.”_

_“Why?” Ichigo asked, his eyes narrowed._

_“Because he’s impatient.” The man said simply. “And you’re unbelievably resilient.”_

_“What? Me?” Ichigo asked in shock._

_“Yeah, you’re strong.” The man insisted. “That’s the only reason you’ve survived this long.”_

_“But I’m not strong.” Ichigo argued. “I’m pathetic.”_

_“Probably.” The man replied with a throaty chuckle. “Most things are.” The man stepped forward, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “It’s time for you to go back. I’ve separated the two of you for a few days. Let your body heal. If that fucking asshole even breathes on ya before you’re healed, you’ll probably die.”_

_“Okay, but…”_

_“No buts, Ichigo.” The man barked, a crooked smile twitching across his ruggedly handsome face. “Don’t die.”_

Ichigo gasped as he sat up. He was back on the ground beneath Grimmjow’s den. Ichigo choked loudly, sucking in painful breaths. He looked around, his blurry vision slowly sharpening. “Grimmjow?”

Ichigo looked down at his blood soaked clothes in disgust. Flakes of dried blood crusted around his mouth and between his fingers; he stood slowly, there was even blood crusted between his toes. “Grimmjow!”

“Where are you? Grimmjow!” Ichigo stumbled forward weakly before collapsing face down into the dirt.

* * *

 

“What do you want?” the woman barked, nodding toward Ichigo impatiently.

Ichigo smiled warmly, handsome even to the most discerning of eyes, “Excuse me, ma’am. I was wondering if I could work for some food?”

“No.” the woman snipped. “Run along.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Ichigo murmured, bowing his head politely.

“Don’t think fancy manners will get you anywhere.” The woman hissed. “You’re at a rotten age; too old to pity and too young to be useful.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ichigo replied, walking onward. His stomach growled loudly and he held it tightly in an attempt to silence it. He walked a little further before approaching another vendor. “Hello, Sir.”

The man, young and rather handsome, turned, looking him up and down analytically. “What are you up to?”

“I will work for food.” Ichigo offered, pressing his hands together in a pleading gesture.

“What sort of work?” the man questioned.

“Anything, Sir.” Ichigo replied. He straightened up properly and flashed another brilliant smile. “I’m strong, stronger than I look.”

“It’ll cost more to feed a boy your size than to do the work myself.” The man claimed.

“I won’t eat a lot.” Ichigo assured the man. His stomach growled again, loud enough for the other man to hear it. Ichigo’s face flushed with color and he shook his head. “I take it that’s a no.”

“I didn’t say no.” the man called after Ichigo. Ichigo looked up, afraid to feel hopeful. The man smiled and beckoned Ichigo back. “I was just closing up for the night. Help me pack up the cart and we’ll see about a meal.”

“Ah, thank you.” Ichigo exhaled, walking back toward the vendor. He followed the man’s direction and within a few minutes the cart was packed and ready.

“Come on.” The man instructed, waving Ichigo closer. “I live just down the road.”

“Oh, okay…” Ichigo murmured in confusion. He had expected the man to simply give him an apple or some figs, he didn’t intend to follow him home.

The man flashed a friendly smile, offering his hand in greeting. “The name’s Kaien.”

“Ichigo.” Ichigo said as he shook Kaien’s offered hand.

“You by yourself, Ichigo?” Kaien asked, pretending not to watch Ichigo out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah.” Ichigo answered.

“You’re young to be travelling alone.” Kaien suggested.

“I’m older than I look.” Ichigo replied, an automatic response at this point.

“Where you from?” Kaien questioned.

“Mesopotamia.”

“Wow. You’re quite a ways from home.”Kaien struggled getting the cart through the uneven ditch and onto the gravel road.

Ichigo aided him while trying not to expose himself or his inhuman strength. “Would you like some help?”

Kaien smiled, “I got it.”

“Okay.”

“So, Ichigo, what are you doing in Thrace?” Kaien asked.

Ichigo walked in silence for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts, “Nothing, I guess.”

“No one walks from Mesopotamia to Thrace for ‘nothing’.” Kaien insisted, sweat beading down the side of his face. “Don’t tell me you ran off with a girl…”

Ichigo snorted, “No. I didn’t.”

“That would’ve been more fun.” Kaien decided. “Anyway, you speak the language well. I wouldn’t have known you weren’t Thracian if not for your clothing and that unusual red hair.”

“It’s unusual in Mesopotamia too.” Ichigo groaned.

“See that farm, there?” Kaien asked suddenly, nodding toward a single house on top the hill.

“Yeah.”

“That’s where we’re headed.”

Even in the darkness of evening, Ichigo could tell Kaien’s farm was beautiful. They approached the house and two dogs rushed them, barking and snapping their jaws. Ichigo was halfway down the road before Kaien called him back, laughing hard.

“They’re harmless. They’re harmless!” Kaien insisted, petting both dogs affectionately. “Let them smell you.”

Kaien lifted his hand and extended it slowly to his dogs, “See. Like this.” Ichigo repeated the gesture but the dogs wouldn’t quit their mad barking. “Circe! Psyche! Knock it off!” Kaien smiled apologetically, the dogs hiding behind him to bark. “Sorry, they’re really harmless though… just noisy.”

“Kaien, is that you?” A woman asked, appearing in the doorway of the well-built farmhouse.

“Ah, Miyako,” Kaien exclaimed, straightening up. He grinned from ear to ear, his eyes creasing happily. “I’m home, dear. I’ve brought a guest for dinner. Hopefully I haven’t troubled you too much.”

The woman stepped forward to inspect Ichigo. She smiled warmly, her hand resting on her swollen belly. “It’s no trouble at all. Who’s your friend?”

“Ah, I’m Ichigo.” Ichigo announced, stepping forward and bowing his head in greeting.

“Ichigo from Mesopotamia.” Kaien interjected.

“Hello Ichigo from Mesopotamia. I’m Miyako, Kaien’s wife.” Miyako said, her delicate hand rubbing circles over her stomach. “Come in. Dinner’s ready and waiting.”

“If it isn’t any trouble…” Ichigo muttered, following Kaien up to the house.

“Circe. Psyche. Stay outside if you can’t be nice.” Kaien instructed, scolding the dogs halfheartedly.

“I don’t mind.” Ichigo admitted.

Kaien made a face, “They might settle down if you give them a treat. Most things do.”

“Come in, come in.” Miyako encouraged, sweeping her long, black hair up and into a knot at the nape of her neck.

The inside of the house was clean and modest. It was well-made home and it was noticeably well taken care of. Ichigo didn’t have much experience with the domestic sort of woman and he suddenly felt very nervous, “You, uh, have a nice home.”

“Thank you.” Miyako gushed, waddling over to a large, steaming pot of stew. “Kaien and his brother built this house.”

“But Miyako makes it a home.” Kaien blurted out, smiling sincerely at his wife.

_“How gross.”_

“Ah, yes, sorry, sorry.” Kaien laughed, not noticing that it wasn’t Ichigo who spoke. “I suppose romance is the last thing on a boy’s mind.”

“I’m older than I look.” Ichigo repeated, a little insulted at being called a boy.

“Leave him alone. Quit teasing…” Miyako sighed, clicking her tongue at her husband. “Don’t worry, Ichigo… He’s just forgotten what it’s like to be young. He’s too old.”

“If I’m old,” Kaien began, a mischievous grin on his face. “What does that make you, my dear, seeing as you’re two years older?”

“Silence.” Miyako teased, her dark, narrow eyes widening playfully. “Now sit. Both of you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kaien said, gesturing toward the table. “We’d better listen, Ichigo.”

“Oh, he looks like a good boy.” Miyako reasoned with an indulgent smile. She turned to Kaien with an exaggerated scowl. “You’re the troublemaker.”

“Is that your first child?” Ichigo asked, nodding toward Miyako’s belly.

“Yep.” Kaien beamed proudly, wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist. “Our first boy.”

“You don’t know it’s a boy.” Miyako interjected gently.

“It’s a boy.” Kaien insisted, nodding.

“It’s our first child.” Miyako clarified, dishing out three bowls of stew. “Boy or girl.”

“Boy or girl, doesn’t matter, I’m happy.” Kaien declared. “But I can just tell. It’s a boy.”

“Enjoy,” Miyako breathed out, placing a bowl in front of her husband. “And here,” she continued, serving Ichigo. “For you, Ichigo.”

“Thank you.” Ichigo spat quickly, lifting the bowl and drinking it down hungrily.  Kaien and Miyako tried not to stare as Ichigo swallowed the last bits that dripped from the bottom of the bowl.

“Here.” Kaien stood and refilled Ichigo’s bowl. “Wait a few minutes and then eat it slowly.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Ichigo breathed, the hot stew warming his throat and belly.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Miyako asked, her spoon held forgotten in her hand.

“Just now.” Ichigo replied. It was nearly impossible not to down the second bowl of stew. “Thank you again.”

“And before that?” Kaien asked.

“Eight days.” Ichigo answered, licking his lips.

Miyako and Kaien shared a look. “Do you have somewhere to stay?” Kaien questioned.

Ichigo looked up from the stew, “I’ve imposed enough. And I’m just passing through…”

“Where are you headed?” Miyako pressed.

“North.”

“Where north?” Kaien questioned.

“I don’t know… just north…”

“There’s war to the north.” Miyako breathed out, clutching her throat in concern.

“Lots of dangerous tribes.” Kaien added. “You don’t want to go too far north.”

“Oh, okay…” Ichigo nodded. “I won’t.”

Kaien and Miyako shared another look. Kaien licked his lips before asking, “Why don’t you stay here a few days? You can find out where you want to go and we can get you on track…”

“I couldn’t possibly…”

“You can pay me back with work around the farm. It’s not charity. You won’t be putting us out.” Kaien insisted.

“We’d be honored to have you here for as long as you’ll stay.” Miyako added.

“Really,” Ichigo sighed. “I’m older than I look. And I’ll be fine. I already feel so much better. Diner was delicious. Thank you…” and then Ichigo felt it. He was going to lose his dinner. He stood up quickly, his chair scraping the floor loudly. The dogs began to bark again, chasing him to the door where he spewed outside onto the grass.

“You ate too fast.” Kaien explained as he walked over to him, patting Ichigo on the back.

“What can I do to help?” Miyako asked.

“Boil some cabbage.” Kaien instructed. “He needs to start simple.”

“I’m sorry.” Ichigo groaned, wiping his face as Kaien ushered him back inside.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.” Kaien murmured kindly. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry.” Ichigo repeated, inhaling sharply. “I wasted that food and-”

“Hey,” Kaien spoke up, his arm wrapping around Ichigo’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re going to get you fixed up.”

* * *

_“It’s hot.”_

“I’m the one breaking my back.”

_“It’s too bright.”_

“You’re just gonna hafta bear with it, Master.”

Ichigo stood sending inches of dirt falling from the folds of his clothes. He lifted the sack of fertilizer and carried it further down the line of fruit trees. He had weeded and fertilized around two hundred trees already that morning. He felt a surprising amount of accomplishment looking back at his completed work.

“Wow.” Kaien exclaimed, leading one of his donkeys toward Ichigo. “You’re fast.”

“I think I’ll be done before dinner.” Ichigo explained, surveying the orchards thoughtfully.

“It takes me three days, Ichigo.” Kaien confessed. “Miyako’s going to scold me.”

“Kaien! Ichigo!” Miyako called out, appearing in the doorway. “Lunch!”

“Well, come on…” Kaien instructed, waving his arm in gesture. “Just don’t tell on me.”

“Tell on you for what?” Ichigo asked, laughing in confusion.

“Obviously I’m a slow, old man. I don’t want the wife to know.” Kaien answered with a wink.

“You’re not old.” Ichigo argued.

Kaien scoffed openly, “Thanks, kid, but…”

“How old are you then?” Ichigo demanded, following behind Kaien to the house.

“I turned 40 last year.” Kaien answered.

Ichigo nodded and then shook his head, his eyes narrowed, “Then wouldn’t you be 41?”

“Ah!” Kaien exclaimed playfully, his hands shooting up into the air. “You’ve found me out.”

“Your wife is 44?” Ichigo gasped in realization.

“Shhhhhh!” Kaien hissed in warning, his long finger pressing against Ichigo’s lips. “You mustn’t ever mention two things about a woman.”

“Yeah? And what are those two things?” Ichigo asked.

“The number of her years and the number of her measurements.” Kaien replied.

Ichigo made a face, opening his mouth to reply, _“How simple. Women. What’s the point of such a creature?”_

Kaien looked at Ichigo for a long moment before finally smiling, “Trust me. There are certain things that only a woman can do…”

Ichigo was angry with his Master. He never would’ve said something so rude about women. And the comment just made him seem that much more childish. Ichigo folded his arms across his chest and bowed his head lowly, hiding away from Kaien’s careful gaze.

“Ah, come on now. I was only teasin’.” Kaien insisted, patting Ichigo on the back. Ichigo was further mortified. He nodded his head in response. “Show me a smile.”

Ichigo groaned loudly. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really. Come on. Show me a smile.” Kaien encouraged. Ichigo felt like an idiot, smiling from ear to ear on command. Kaien laughed aloud. “I can’t believe you did it.”

“You told me to!” Ichigo groaned, covering his blushing face with his hands.

“Did you get a sunburn, Ichigo?” Kaien teased, peeling Ichigo’s arms away. “You’re all red.”

“Oh, leave the boy alone.” Miyako sighed, smiling as the two men approached. “Let’s eat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kaien agreed, letting Ichigo in first. He paused at the door and kissed his wife sweetly. “Smells delicious.”

“It’s just rice and egg.” Miyako said gently.

“But you’ve made it. It’ll be the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.” Kaien gushed.

_“This is Hell.”_

“Oh, come now,” Miyako giggled, her arms wrapping around her husband lovingly. “Don’t you have someone you’ve fancied, Ichigo?”

_“Love is just a chemical reaction that enhances the chances of human reproduction. It isn’t real.”_

“Well, what I mean,” Ichigo tried to cover. “Is that I can tell you two really love each other, but maybe, I just think, it isn’t meant for someone like me.”

 “Love is for everyone.” Kaien said simply.

“Be patient.” Miyako suggested kindly. “It happens on its own time.”

Ichigo smiled sadly, “Thank you, but it’s okay. I’ve already prepared myself.”


	16. All the Devils are Here

** Part XVI: All the Devils Are Here **

_"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."_    
— William Shakespeare, _The Tempest_

* * *

 

“Act like you’re busy.” Kaien whispered, leaning against the cart in exhaustion.

“What should I do?” Ichigo asked unsurely.

Kaien smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow. “It doesn’t matter. The wife is watching us.” Ichigo looked up, catching a glimpse of Miyako in the open window. “You really make me feel old, ya know…”

“Sorry.”

Kaien laughed, “You’re strong and what I wouldn’t do for that stamina…”

“Oh it’s nothing.”

“Is she still looking?” Kaien asked, fiddling with the cart.

“Yep.”

“Damn it.” Kaien groaned, his hand rubbing circles into his lower back sorely.

“Miss Miyako won’t care if you take a break.” Ichigo pointed out with a chuckle.

Kaien smiled handsomely, “She’d certainly be displeased if I take a break before you do.”

Ichigo leaned against the cart with a heavy sigh, “I’m taking a break right now.”

“Oh, thank Gods.” Kaien breathed out in relief. “I thought you’d never catch the hint.”

Ichigo laughed, “Next time just say something, Mr. Kaien.”

“Mister? Nah… Just Kaien…” Kaien insisted, his large hand gripping Ichigo’s shoulder.

“I feel like I’m imposing enough as it is.” Ichigo argued. “The least I can do is speak properly.”

“You’re in Thrace now, Ichigo. Do as Thracians do.” Kaien insisted. “You’re here, working. Stop thinking you’re a burden.”

“I…” Ichigo began.

“My brothers have grown children already. They have all the help they need.” Kaien said suddenly. He smiled, deep in his own thoughts. “You can’t imagine how thankful we are to have your help.”

“And I’m thankful to have food and a place to sleep and…”

Kaien interrupted, his arm sliding around Ichigo in a side embrace, “I’m glad you’re here, kid. It’s a pleasure to have you as our guest.”

Ichigo felt warm all over. He nodded wordlessly, not trusting his voice to carry. Kaien smiled, his arm slipping slowly down Ichigo’s back. Ichigo inhaled Kaien’s scent; sunshine and earth with a touch of sweat and citrus. It was pleasant and human and real.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Kaien said softly, his thumb brushing over Ichigo’s cheek. “Your eyes change colors.” Ichigo covered his eyes immediately, ducking away from Kaien’s touch. Kaien laughed, a little confused, and shook his head. “Ah, I meant, I like it… It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Aghhhhhhh!”

Kaien and Ichigo shared a look before turning toward the house on the hill. Kaien dropped his trowel and began to jog toward the house before breaking into a full-out run. “Miyako? Miyako!” Ichigo looked around unsurely before following after Kaien. “Miyako!”

Miyako appeared in the doorway, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing! I’m fine…”

“What’s going on? Is it the baby?” Kaien asked, searching his wife from top to bottom in concern.

“I’m alright.” Miyako insisted, her pale face flushed with color.

“What were you yelling about?” Kaien asked, unconvinced.

Miyako looked at Ichigo and opened her mouth, stammering in her response before looking away, “Ah, well, I-I, it’s nothing…”

Ichigo felt something coil inside of him. It was a peculiar sensation and he didn’t like it. He swallowed thickly, a bad taste in his mouth. He turned away as Kaien interrogated his wife and looked out the window. He couldn’t explain how, but he felt as if Miyako had screamed about something she saw out that window.

Could she see his eyes? Could she see his Master? What had made Miyako scream?

“You’ve done enough for now,” Miyako changed subjects quickly. “Why don’t you two sit down. I’ll have lunch ready in a moment.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kaien pressed.

Miyako waved away his concern, placing a slender hand against her swollen belly, “I’m perfectly alright.”

“You’re not feeling poorly?” Kaien worried.

“Not a bit.” Miyako maintained. “I was hurrying and nearly lost my footing. That’s all.”

_“What’s for lunch?”_ Ichigo was surprised at his Master’s decision to join the conversation and especially at the words he used.

Miyako’s eyes settled on Ichigo, and there was something there, something sharp in her eyes. “Cabbage and rabbit stew.”

_“Sounds delicious.”_ The Master drawled. _“I’m famished.”_

Kaien smiled, “You heard the boy, Miyako!” Kaien boomed. “Let’s eat!”

Miyako nodded slowly before turning around to the pot of stew. She served it silently, placing a bowl in front of Kaien and Ichigo before serving herself. Ichigo opened his mouth to offer thanks when the Master suddenly spoke, _“Thank you, Miyako.”_

Ichigo shoved the spoon into his mouth. It was too much. It was too shocking. What was the Master doing? What was he thinking? What was going on?

“Enjoy.” Miyako said simply, her eyes meeting Ichigo’s as she squeezed Kaien’s hand. Ichigo’s gaze followed her movement and a smile twitched up at the corners of her mouth. “Eat up.”

* * *

“What are you doing?” Ichigo hissed, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape.

_“Is that how you should speak to me?”_

Ichigo growled in frustration, his eyes narrowing, “You can’t talk when I’m with other people.”

_“They have no idea it’s not you. Humans are stupid.”_

“That’s not the point.”

_“Tell me then…”_ Ulquiorra breathed. _“What is your point?”_

“I’ll look like a fucking lunatic if you don’t knock it off.”

_“We should move on.”_

“We will.” Ichigo agreed, nodding slowly. “But we need food.” Ichigo gripped the wool blanket tightly. “And sleeping here sure beats sleeping outdoors.”

_“The woman distrusts us.”_

“Whose fault is that?” Ichigo groaned, closing his eyes and settling into his bed.

_“Ichigo,”_ Ulquiorra spoke up. “ _Don’t forget.”_

“Forget what?” Ichigo wondered, his eyes blinking sleepily.

_“You have nothing except for me.”_

“Then I don’t have much at all.” Ichigo muttered. “Do I?”

_“No, you don’t.”_ Ulquiorra agreed. _“Don’t forget. Everything and everyone else is temporary.”_

“I’m temporary.”

_“And I’m eternal.”_

* * *

 

“It’s soooo hot.” Kaien groaned, squinting at the bright sky. He looked over at Ichigo and shook his head, “How are you not sweating all over the place?”

Ichigo shrugged, his mouth open slightly, “I don’t know. I’m hot as fuck too.”

Kaien laughed loudly, “Whoa.”

“Sorry.” Ichigo apologized, bowing his head in embarrassment.

“Don’t apologize.” Kaien insisted. “I was just surprised, is all.”

“I curse a lot.”

“I had no idea.” Kaien replied. “Seriously, you don’t have to act so proper all the time. I’m not your daddy.”

Ichigo frowned deeply, a hand snaking through his coppery hair, “I know.”

“I was only teasin’.” Kaien said ruefully. “I should’ve known that was a touchy subject…”

“It’s not a problem,” Ichigo insisted. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“You’re such a good kid.” Kaien gushed. “Why on Earth are you all alone? Why’re you here?”

“It’s a long story.” Ichigo said glibly.

Kaien gestured to the orchard, “We’ve got time.”

Ichigo sighed heavily, “I don’t think I have the breath for it.”

“If you did something wrong,” Kaien began unsurely. “I’m sure there’s a good or understandable reason.”

Ichigo made a face, “Something wrong? Like what? What do you think I’ve done?”

“Tell me,” Kaien pressed. “Do you sense anything about me?”

“Like what?” Ichigo asked, his brows furrowed.

“Do I seem bad?” Kaien asked simply.

“No,” Ichigo laughed. “Not at all… And I have a sense for that sort of thing.”

“When I was young, about your age,” Kaien spoke slowly. “My father died, gored to death by a bull. My eldest brother, in a fit of rage, killed the bull. My middle brother killed the bull’s mother. And I stabbed the man who sold them to us.”

Kaien looked shocked, as if he hadn’t expected those words to leave his own mouth. Kaien sighed heavily, rubbing his face with his hands. “That man had a family of his own. He hadn’t done anything wrong. It was an accident or perhaps my father wasn’t careful enough. And in an instant I made a horrible choice.”

“You killed a man…?” Ichigo couldn’t believe it.

“He lived.” Kaien explained, sliding his shirt down his shoulder, exposing a rough, large scar on his back. He’d been branded crudely, a symbol of his crime forever burned into his flesh. “And life moved on.”

“You’ve seen things,” Kaien continued, replacing his clothing. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Ichigo nodded slowly, “Yeah.”

“Life goes on, Ichigo.” Kaien said gently. “It’s important that you go with it.”

“Mr. Kaien,-”

“Nuh uh! Just Kaien.” Kaien corrected, clicking his tongue.

“You’re a good man.” Ichigo said. “I can tell.”

“Thank you.” Kaien nodded. “You are too, I can tell…” Kaien smiled, a little sadly. “Sometimes being a good person isn’t natural, sometimes it takes work. That doesn’t make you any less of a good person. Remember that.”

* * *

_“It’s time to leave.”_ Ichigo ignored it, it wasn’t the first or even the thirtieth time that Ulquiorra had said it. And he didn’t particularly mean it anyway. If he had meant it, he’d never have let him stay another night.

Ichigo groaned as he pushed off his knees and onto his feet. He looked around the orchard, his vision fading in and out. It was so hot, unbearably hot, in the mid-day sun. He fanned himself, but it hurt to move, his skin was burnt and hadn’t healed itself yet. Ichigo leaned against one of the trees, hoping the breeze was enough to make the queasiness in his stomach go away.

_“You’re overheating, stupid pig.”_

“I know.” Ichigo murmured. “But I can’t make it to the house.”

_“Should I help you?”_ Ulquiorra asked, almost without a tone of absolute revulsion.

Ichigo shook his head, he felt too ill to allow the Master to take over, “You can’t.”

“You don’t look so good.” Kaien called out as he approached a few minutes later.

“I’m okay.” Ichigo replied, straightening up weakly.

“You don’t look okay.” Kaien noted, pressing his hand against Ichigo’s neck. “You’re burning up.”

_“It’s about to be a heatstroke.”_

Kaien looked at Ichigo in confusion, unsure if it had been Ichigo who had spoken. He shook his head and extended his arms, “Don’t be offended…” Kaien dipped down and lifted Ichigo over his shoulder. “Let’s get you cooled down.”

Kaien didn’t carry Ichigo back to the house, instead they headed toward the barn. Kaien lowered Ichigo into the hay and grabbed a rag from his workbench. “Go ahead and take off your shirt. It’s not like you’ll burn while inside.” He soaked the rag in the water trough and pulled it out sopping wet. He placed the cool rag over Ichigo’s face and left it there.

Kaien searched his table for more rags, placing one over Ichigo’s throat. He wrung another in his hands before wiping it over Ichigo’s skin. The wet cloth was cool and it felt amazing on his sweltering body. “I’ll be right back.”

Ichigo sat up, the cloth slipping from his face. “Where are you going?”

“To get you some water to drink,” Kaien replied with a patient smile. “Unless you wanna drink from the trough like the donkeys do.”

_“It’s fine. I’m an animal as well.”_

Ichigo groaned internally before adding, “I’m just really thirsty.”

Kaien nodded and ladeled a fistful of water into his palm. He kneeled in front of Ichigo, his hand pressing to Ichigo’s cracked lips. Ichigo guzzled the water and Kaien refilled his hand over and over again. Water dripped down Ichigo’s chin, his throat, and over his chest. He finally had enough and let his head fall back into the straw.

“Feeling better?” Kaien asked.

“Much better.” Ichigo realized, nodding his head. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad.” Kaien smiled in relief. “You need to be more careful.”

“I will. I’m sorry.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Kaien asked. “Is it because of this color?” Kaien teased, running a hand through Ichigo’s hair. “Does it make you more susceptible to the sun?”

“It’s happened a couple times.” Ichigo admitted.

“I’ve asked too much of ya. You’re so strong; I guess I forgot that you’re still a kid.”

“I’m not a kid.” Ichigo repeated for the hundredth time. “Really.”

“No?” Kaien watched Ichigo intently for a long moment. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? What?! How?” Ichigo groaned, sitting up.

“Give me a kiss,” Kaien said suddenly, smiling handsomely. “Right here on my cheek.”

“What? A kiss?” Ichigo wondered, his brows knit together in confusion.

“On the cheek,” Kaien instructed, pointing to his own cheek. “Go on.” Ichigo leaned in closely and pecked Kaien on the cheek quickly. Kaien laughed loudly, his eyes creasing at the corners. “You’re a kid.”

“Wh-what? Why?” Ichigo demanded, his face flushing with color.

Kaien was suddenly very close to Ichigo. He kneeled beside him, his arm resting on a knee. “That’s not how adults kiss, Ichigo.”

“I am an adult.” Ichigo maintained, feeling humiliated by Kaien’s trick.

“Go on then.” Kaien breathed out slowly. “Show me.”

Ichigo swallowed thickly. He could feel the heat radiating from Kaien’s body. He could smell the sunshine and wind and citrus on Kaien’s skin. Ichigo couldn’t find his voice so it was his Master who whispered, _“Miyako…”_

Kaien nodded slowly, his rough, working hands sliding across Ichigo’s bare shoulders. “It’s okay, she’s in the house. She won’t come in here…”

Ichigo wanted to protest but no words would come. Kaien was handsome and strong and kind and _there_. Ichigo held his breath as Kaien’s hand brushed across his muscled stomach. And then Kaien’s lips pressed against Ichigo’s, and he kissed back.

* * *

They sat in silence at the table. Ichigo was certain she knew. The way her dark eyes narrowed when they fell on him, the way her hand hesitated near him. She stirred her bowl of porridge continuously, never bringing the spoon to her lips.

“Miyako? Are you alright, dear?” Kaien asked, reaching for her hand.

She startled, dropping her spoon to the table with a clatter. She seemed to snap out of her daze and she flashed him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, my mind’s wandering.”

“Are you feeling poorly?” Kaien questioned.

“No.” Miyako insisted, her eyes drifting over toward Ichigo. Her eyes were hard when she looked at him. She snatched her spoon up from the table and began to stir her porridge again. “I’m fine.”

“I think I’ll go to bed.” Ichigo muttered under his breath, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Miyako said slowly, her head snapping to the side. “You haven’t eaten a thing.”

“Sit down.” Kaien urged, flashing that charming smile. “Eat up. You worked hard today.”

Ichigo had no idea how Kaien was staying so calm. Didn’t he notice the look she was giving Ichigo? Did he not care? Ichigo sat back down, his hands held awkwardly in his lap. “Yes, Sir.”

“You’re such a handsome boy.” Miyako breathed out, suddenly leaning forward and touching his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.”

Ichigo swallowed guiltily, “Thank you, Miss Miyako.”

“Just Miyako.” Miyako insisted with a smile. She scooped a heaping tower of porridge onto her spoon and pushed it into Ichigo’s mouth abruptly. She placed her hand on the bottom of his chin to force him to chew. “Eat up. Eat up. So you’ll grow up big and strong…”

_“We’ve overstayed our welcome.”_

“We?” Miyako asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Kaien snapped. “You’re totally welcome here.”

“You’re a strange boy.” Miyako said simply, scooping more porridge onto her spoon.

“I can feed myself.” Ichigo said, placing his hand out in refusal.

“Eat up. Eat up.” Miyako chimed in a sing-songy voice. “You too, darling.”

“I am.” Kaien replied. “And it’s delicious as always.”

“You two…” Ichigo began unsurely. “You’re acting weird.”

Miyako smiled, “Are we? Why do you think so?”

“Did I do something?” Ichigo asked nervously.

“Don’t be so tense, Ichigo.” Miyako breathed out. “You’re doing fine.”

“It’s okay to get comfortable.” Kaien added. “You have a place here.”

Ichigo was completely conflicted. He looked from Kaien to Miyako slowly before grabbing his spoon and beginning to eat. “It’s delicious, Miyako.”

 Miyako nodded approvingly, “Thank you. It makes me happy to have two strapping men to cook for.”

“You’re a wonderful wife,” Kaien cooed lovingly, kissing his wife on the forehead. “And just wait until our boy comes. You’ll be an excellent mother.”

Miyako laughed softly, “You don’t know it’s a boy.”

* * *

 

_“Slave.” The Master whispered._

Ichigo grabbed his pack, stuffing his few belongings inside. He growled under his breath as his hand brushed against the fine clothing Grimmjow had had made for him. He looked around the room, searching for anything of value.

_“Slave.” The Master repeated, almost silently._

Ichigo pushed aside the curtain that separated his room from the rest of the small house. He watched Miyako’s chest heaving up and down, deep in sleep, her round stomach well above the rest of her. Ichigo felt his heart pounding in his throat. Kaien wasn’t beside Miyako in bed.

_“Ichigo!”_ Ichigo’s head snapped up as his Master hissed his name.

“He’s not here.” Ichigo realized, feeling his skin prickle.

_“That’s what I was trying to tell you,”_ the Master began.

Ichigo ignored Ulquiorra and hurried around the little house. He grabbed a loaf of bread and as many oranges as would fit in his pack. Miyako inhaled sharply and Ichigo froze in place. When she didn’t wake, he continued searching for supplies to take. He looked around the dark house reluctantly, “Sorry… Thanks…”

“Ichigo.” Kaien said, looking up as the door swung open. He sat on the doorstep, the dogs lying at his feet. “You’re awake…”

“Uh, yes,” Ichigo replied, shifting his pack awkwardly.

Kaien realized Ichigo was leaving and he frowned deeply, “You’re running away?”

_“It’s time to leave.”_

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Kaien admitted with a sigh, turning to look out into the dark early morning.

“Thank you for everything.” Ichigo said. “You’ve done so much for me and…”

Kaien stood up quickly, fluidly, with little effort. He reached around Ichigo and pulled the door closed. He blocked Ichigo’s path with his body and leaned in close. “Why?”

“I have to go.”

Kaien shook his head, his large, rough hand ruffling Ichigo’s hair, “You don’t.”

“I have somewhere to be…” Ichigo replied, watching Kaien with large, brown eyes.

“No one’s waiting for you,” Kaien said gruffly, his tone changing. “No one out there cares about you, Ichigo.”

“I’m leaving now.” Ichigo insisted, ducking down and out from under Kaien.

Kaien caught his arm and held Ichigo tightly in place, “You don’t have to. You should stay.”

“Mister-”

“Kaien, just Kaien.” Kaien barked, gripping Ichigo’s chin and forcing the shifter to look at him. He laughed softly, his eyes fluttering closed, “We’re more familiar than that now, aren’t we?”

“I want to leave now.” Ichigo repeated, licking his lips nervously.

“It’s the middle of the night.” Kaien pointed out, concern returning to his voice.

“I’ll manage.” Ichigo insisted.

“I’m sure you will,” Kaien agreed. And then he grew flustered again, “Or you could just stay here with us. I feed you, house you already. I can add in some spending money.” Kaien’s hand curved around Ichigo’s narrow waist. “I’m willing to pay for it.”

_“Let go.”_

Kaien’s face trembled and he released Ichigo immediately. He looked horrified, his eyes locked on Ichigo’s. Kaien shook his head, “What are you?”

_“I’m the Devil.”_ The Master breathed out. _“And you’ll lose your head if you so much as touch us again.”_


	17. The Sky is Empty

** Part XVII: The Sky is Empty **

_"I talk to God but the sky is empty."_    
— Sylvia Plath

* * *

 

_“You’ve stopped.”_

Ichigo stood silently, the sand soaking into his sandals and between his toes.

_“Why?”_

Ichigo didn’t answer. Instead, he dropped abruptly to his knees. He sank weakly into the sand, not bothering to catch himself from collapsing onto his side. The sand was still warm underneath, even though the night was cold.

_“Why have you stopped?”_  Ulquiorra demanded angrily.

Ichigo’s breathing slowed and his heart may not even have been beating. He blinked slowly and then simply laid there on the ground motionless and silent. He’d given up all hope the moment he’d run away from Kaien and Miyako’s farm and it finally seemed as if his body had followed suit. He hadn’t the will to go on.

_“Ichigo!”_ Ulquiorra barked in frustration.

Ulquiorra took control of Ichigo’s body. He moved to sit up but found it impossible. He coughed into Ichigo’s sand covered hand, spraying it with spots of scarlet. Ichigo’s body would not, could not move. Ulquiorra cursed, the anger bubbling up inside of him. He wasn’t used to disobedience. Not to mention this felt… like something else…

_“Ichigo!”_ Ulquiorra snapped, slapping Ichigo’s cheek with Ichigo’s hand _. “Stop this!”_

_“Say something.”_ Ulquiorra whispered, a strange tightness in his voice.

_“Damn it. I told you to speak, Slave!”_ Ulquiorra fumed, bloodied spit flying from Ichigo’s mouth. Ulquiorra tried to move again but it was useless. _“Say something!”_

“No more.” Ichigo groaned, curling into a ball on the ground.

Ulquiorra felt the snap inside of Ichigo, inside of him, and he knew, could feel, his heart breaking. Ulquiorra gasped in agony, clutching at Ichigo’s chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to hurt _him_. _“Ichigo, stop!”_

“No more.” Ichigo murmured, covering his face with his arms.

_“Stop it! Stop it now!”_ Ulquiorra spat.

Ichigo’s lungs burned as he aspirated sand. He choked slightly but persisted. “No more.”

Ulquiorra’s heart throbbed. He began to panic as he felt his heart separate from the arteries and valves. He wrenched himself free of Ichigo and materialized in front of him. He looked down at Ichigo, surprised to see Ichigo’s bright, brown eyes focused on him.

_“You’re dying.”_ Ulquiorra said simply, his white hand brushing across Ichigo’s arm.

“Good.” Ichigo breathed out, closing his eyes. “I’m glad.”

_“Damn it.”_ Ulquiorra growled, shaking Ichigo roughly. _“We have a contract.”_

“I’m sorry.” Ichigo muttered. “But no more.”

The Master was at a loss. He didn’t know much about humans and he never cared to learn about shifters. He’d done it to himself, he realized, by creating a contract that was different than Aizen’s. Aizen had worked out all the kinks a millennia ago and he’d been a fool to invest so much energy, so much dark matter, to a single shifter.

_“Wait.”_ Ulquiorra whispered.

“Why?”

Without thinking, Ulquiorra replied, _“I need you.”_

* * *

 

_“_ You’re awake _.”_ The Master sounded so different when he wasn’t using Ichigo to speak.

Ichigo blinked the sleep from his eyes. He moved to sit up but couldn’t, every inch of him hurt. He wriggled underneath the thin blanket placed over him and stared at the slight, pale Master looking back at him.

“Where are we?” Ichigo asked, looking around the dark room.

“Somewhere safe.” The Master said, a strange inflection in his voice. “For now.”

Ichigo nodded exhaustedly. “How long have I been out?”

Ulquiorra’s face was expressionless, his eyes glowing with their own light, “Two months.”

“Two day-s- what?! Two _months_?!” Ichigo croaked.

Ulquiorra nodded wordlessly, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He moved fluidly to a standing position. His skin was so unnaturally white it glowed in the darkness. He appeared to float toward Ichigo, his green eyes studying the shifter with interest. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m tired.” Ichigo admitted, swallowing as the Master approached. “And I’m sore.”

The Master raised his hand and Ichigo flinched. But instead of harming him, that stark white hand smoothed over Ichigo’s cheek and through his hair. He repeated the gesture, squeezing Ichigo’s cheek almost affectionately. Ichigo swallowed again unsurely. The Master’s face twitched and once again he caressed Ichigo’s face and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t understand…” Ichigo breathed out, his eyes clamping shut tightly each time Ulquiorra lifted his hand. “Have you been taking care of me all this time? Two months, that’s… impossible…”

“You were unwell in the head.” Ulquiorra said simply. “But your body was fine.”

Ichigo made a face, “But everything hurts.”

Ulquiorra continued stroking Ichigo’s face, “I know.”

“What happened?” Ichigo wondered aloud.

“I replaced another part of you with a piece of myself. It’s harder on you than I anticipated. I’ll have to do it gradually.” The Master frowned. “And I’ll have to tend to you for some time afterward.” The Master patted Ichigo’s head, “You’re so much trouble.”

“I’m sorry…” Ichigo murmured uneasily. “For the trouble.”

The Master made a small noise, perhaps the clicking of his tongue. He leaned over Ichigo, brushing both of his hands over Ichigo’s warm skin. The touch was gentle, unexpectedly so, and it only served to make Ichigo’s heart pound nervously. “Please don’t misunderstand,” Ulquiorra said simply, his slow, deep voice cutting through the atmosphere.

“Misunderstand what?” Ichigo whispered, his brown eyes fraught.

“I want to take very good care of this,” Ulquiorra announced, stroking Ichigo’s hair.

Ichigo was confused. He licked his lips before asking, “This? What? And why?”

Ulquiorra gestured over Ichigo, “All of it. This body. Your body.”

Ichigo’s breath caught in his throat as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

“Because one day it’ll be mine.” Ulquiorra finished, his hand smoothing over Ichigo’s forehead. “All mine.”

Ichigo’s blood felt cold and he hated that he couldn’t move. He wanted to shrink back from Ulquiorra’s touch. He wanted to cover himself from the heavy gaze of those green eyes. He wanted to run away. Far away.

Ichigo struggled for the words to reply. It was his body. He already shared it. What more could Ulquiorra want? Where would Ichigo go? What did that mean for him? As if reading Ichigo’s mind, the Master nodded, his fingers curling slowly and firmly around Ichigo’s jaw, “It won’t be painless for either of us. So until this body becomes mine, I’d appreciate your help in caring for it.”

Ichigo laughed at the absurdity of it all. He laughed manically, from the belly, until his abs ached. He shook his head, the only thing he could move with ease, and inhaled sharply. “You know what? I’d happily die a million times if it meant I’d piss you off.”

The Master was not pleased with Ichigo’s declaration. He released Ichigo and took a step back. It amazed Ichigo that so much power could be contained in such a frail-looking package. The Master tilted his head to the side, “It doesn’t matter what you want. Surely you’ve realized this by now. You’re powerless. You’re pathetic.”

“I don’t wanna die.” Ichigo whispered. “I don’t wanna disappear.”

Ulquiorra’s hands curled tightly at his side, “I don’t care.”

* * *

Ichigo longed to be outside. He wished to feel the sun warm his skin, the wind ruffle his hair. He sighed heavily and looked around the dark, empty room. He was ready to get out of there. He didn’t feel nearly as sick as before. He stood up and began to pace, noticing immediately that Ulquiorra was watching him.

“You’ve grown impatient.” Ulquiorra noted, his face obscured in darkness.

“I can’t stay cooped up like this.” Ichigo complained, his feet pounding back and forth across the floor.

“You haven’t fully recuperated.” The Master disputed.

“Close enough,” Ichigo insisted, turning to face his Master.

Ulquiorra’s eyes glowed in the blackness of the cabin. He stared at Ichigo unblinkingly before finally replying, “We’ll leave tomorrow night.”

“Good!” Ichigo exclaimed. “Thank you!”

“Now sit down. You’re annoying me.” Ulquiorra complained. “All that twittering back and forth.”

Ichigo made a face but sat down obediently. He huffed loudly, his arms folding over his chest. The blackness was suffocating. It was going to drive him mad if he didn’t distract himself. He leaned against the wall and let his head fall against the wood. “Who’s the Dragon of Xibalba?”

Ulquiorra’s green eyes were on Ichigo in an instant. “What?”

“The Dragon of Xibalba.” Ichigo repeated, feeling an inexplicable pleasure at ruffling his Master, if only for a moment. “He doesn’t seem to care for you … He said as much when I last saw him.”

“Nozarashi.” Ulquiorra groaned the name like a curse. His eyes flashed as he blinked. The glowing green orbs scurried closer suddenly, “Why do you bring up things that you know I won’t like? Are you stupid?”

Ichigo was silent. He’d agitated his Master enough for one evening and didn’t dare press his luck further. But it was Ulquiorra who spoke next, “What did he say to you? Anything… about the future?”

Ichigo noticed the hesitation in his Master’s voice. His Master was worried. Ichigo smiled to himself, “He said a lot of things. Mostly about hating you.”

“What does that matter?” Ulquiorra hissed. “His side lost. Katen is gone. Hyorinmaru is…” the Master remembered himself and stopped talking. He closed his eyes and moved away from Ichigo. The room was as silent as death for a long stretch of time.

“Master?” Ichigo began cautiously. “What happened in Xibalba?”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“That’s such shit.” Ichigo groaned.

“I don’t care.” Ulquiorra replied.

“You’re just going to kill me anyway. What’s the harm?” Ichigo muttered bitterly.

Ulquiorra seemed to consider this for a moment, “Xibalba was destroyed by our leaders. They were the strongest and they used it to their advantage. The three of them led our entire group astray. One by one we lost our people.” Ulquiorra’s eyes shone brightly in the dark. “Finally, when we’d had enough, Aizen rose up as their equal in power. We stood behind him. We fought for freedom. They fought for submission. And we all lost everything.”

“And now you live here? Amongst humans.” Ichigo deduced.

“That’s enough.” Ulquiorra breathed out tersely. “You’ve no idea. Don’t make assumptions.”

Ichigo had to bite back his reply. How could he have any idea if everything was kept a secret? Ichigo shook his head and they both fell back into a heavy, crippling silence.

* * *

 

“Ichigo!”

Ichigo froze abruptly, the crowd bustling around him. He turned from side to side, seeking out the person who’d shouted his name. He swallowed thickly, wishing, hoping, for a glimpse of blue.

_“Who?”_ Ulquiorra rasped.

“Sorry!”

A sack was thrown over Ichigo’s head, the bottom twisting tightly over his neck. The rough cloth burned across the flesh of his throat as his arms were clasped together behind his back. Ichigo struggled, but the strength of the other person was insurmountable.

“Aghh! Let go! Get off of me!” Ichigo shouted, kicking out wildly.

_“You dare to touch my slave?!”_  Ulquiorra growled.

There was an outcry from the crowd as people scrambled to get out of their way. The man holding Ichigo moved him swiftly, as if Ichigo weighed nothing. Even though Ichigo couldn’t see he knew that no one dared to offer assistance.

_“I’ll kill you this time!”_ the Master threatened.

The captor knocked the side of his hand against the back of Ichigo’s neck, at the base of the spine. It felt as if ice was injected straight into his bloodstream and his entire body went limp in the man’s arms. Energy surged from the man holding him. It wasn’t as thick as his Master’s but it was strong and durable enough to overpower Ulquiorra in Ichigo’s shifter form.

“Calm down.” the man breathed out, slamming Ichigo against a wall. Ichigo looked from side to side anxiously, still blinded by the sack. The rough wall scraped against his skin, snagging his clothes. “I’m here to help.”

Ichigo fell silent, the only noise escaping his lips his breathing. The man’s energy was waning and Ichigo knew then that he was no match for his Master. “Listen to me, Ichigo.”

_“I’ll kill you.”_

“You must come to the Council of Elders.” The man instructed, speaking quickly.

_“I’ll kill you.”_

“You have to seek out the Warden.” The man continued, his grip weakening on Ichigo’s bound wrists. “He’ll be able to save you.”

_“I’ll kill you.”_

“If you wait any longer it might be too late.” The man explained desperately, his words slurring together rapidly. “You’ll die if he takes over your body completely…”

_“Komamura, I’ll kill you.”_

“You’re Komamura?” Ichigo recalled the handsome but inhuman man from the Council.

“Listen to me, Ichigo…” Komamura pressed. “You’ve got to find the Warden. You’ve got to try and refuse your Master.”

“How do I do that?” Ichigo snapped.

_“I’ll kill you.”_

“I don’t have much longer…” Komamura panted in exhaustion. “I have to go. I’ll try to be back.”

_“Run, run, little, Tenken. I’m going to kill you.”_

“How do I refuse my Master?” Ichigo asked desperately. “How do I find the Council again?”

Ichigo felt the paralysis leave his body and he knew that Komamura had reached his limit. Komamura’s hands disappeared from Ichigo’s body. “I can’t do much. I’m not strong enough.”

_“I’m going to kill you.”_

“But this is from the Creator,” Komamura breathed out. “Katen says ‘hello’, Murcielago.”

Komamura slapped his hand roughly against Ichigo’s back. The impact made a hollow thud and then pain exploded throughout Ichigo’s chest. He felt his heart pound and throb wildly, as if it would actually burst. He fell to his knees and clutched his chest, an explosion of stars behind his blind eyes. And then there was only blackness as Ichigo passed out.

Ichigo came to on the ground, the sack still over his head. He wrenched it off and threw it to the gravel with contempt. He looked around the bright street. It had been hours, night had turned into morning. He felt ill, the sun bearing down on him. He crawled to his feet and brushed himself off.

“What the hell?” Ichigo murmured to himself, inspecting himself from the feet up. He paused at the chest, touching a patch of scaly, grey skin. “What is that?!”

Ichigo ripped open his shirt and stared down at the peculiar skin in shock. There was a section of his chest that was carved in stone. He touched the stone in disbelief before his hand wondered to his abdomen, where another section of his flesh had also been replaced with stone.

_“I’ll kill him next time.”_ The Master breathed out.

“What is this?” Ichigo asked, almost afraid to continue touching the odd, new parts of his body.

_“Get me out of here!”_ Ulquiorra hissed impatiently. “ _It’s too bright. You’re burning us, idiot!”_

Ichigo nodded wordlessly and began to walk through the alley and back into the main street. He received some odd looks but no one said a word. He nearly ran from the village and didn’t bother looking behind him. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but despite the heaviness of the stone, he felt a little lighter inside. 


	18. Without Feelings

** Part XVIII: Without Feelings **

_"Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup?”_

Charlotte Brontë, _Jane Eyre_

* * *

 

Ichigo was backed into the corner. He was crouched down, his feet bent in an athletic curve. The Master was across from him, crouched in a similar, yet less lithe, manner. He surveyed Ichigo in silence before finally lifting his hand.

Ulquiorra’s fingers were chalky white, the nails were short but thick and black, chewed down low enough to be uncomfortable. His hand was small but fleshy, much wider than Ichigo’s larger one. He pressed his fingertips against the stone cautiously. The stone plate moved when Ulquiorra touched it. It was an odd sensation, almost a tickle.

Ulquiorra, satisfied that touching the plate would cause him no harm, knocked against it. The stone rippled like mud in a rainstorm but stayed in position. “What is it?” Ichigo asked impatiently.

Ulquiorra didn’t answer. Instead, without warning, he shoved his hand through the stone and into Ichigo’s chest cavity. Ichigo made an involuntary noise before spewing out a thick mixture of blood and something else. Ulquiorra ignored it, instead using his hand to search inside of Ichigo. He nodded wordlessly before pulling his hand free. The stone deliberately reformed around Ulquiorra’s entry point.

“Nothing has been removed.” Ulquiorra said finally, slapping his bloodied hand against the dusty ground. Inexplicably, he smeared the dirt over his wet hand and up to his wrist. “My organs have been encased in the stone.”

Ichigo looked up from Ulquiorra’s busy hands to his face. “And what does that mean?”

Ulquiorra considered his reply for a moment, “It causes no delay in our plan.”

“What does the stone do?” Ichigo asked.

“It protects the rest of your body from the negative effects of carrying my pieces.”

“Isn’t Komamura one of you?” Ichigo decided to annoy his Master. “Why’s he helping me?”

Ulquiorra wasn’t humored, “Don’t ask stupid questions just to talk.”

“And who’s Katen?” Ichigo continued, undeterred.

The Master stood. He turned his back on Ichigo and murmured, almost too softly to catch, “Katen left us.”

There was something so vulnerable, so almost human, that Ichigo felt his stomach clench. The Master was sadistic and ego-centric, but that didn’t stop him from… Ichigo stopped mid-thought. There was nothing he needed to feel sorry for Ulquiorra about. Ulquiorra was a villain. Ulquiorra made his existence hell on Earth. Ulquiorra was the antagonist in Ichigo’s story.

“Come.” Ulquiorra instructed, his glowing green eyes blinking. Even the waning colors of the sunset were too strong for his comfort. He let Ichigo close the distance between them and then he reached out slowly, his colorless hand brushing across Ichigo’s cheek.

Ulquiorra’s thin, plum lips pressed against Ichigo’s. Despite his appearance, the Master’s flesh was warm, so incredibly warm. Ulquiorra kissed Ichigo inquisitively, as if the gesture was foreign to him. Ichigo’s heart pounded nervously, his wide eyes wandering from side to side. Ulquiorra’s kiss was detached, frigid, calm.   And then he melted into the shifter, his warmth spreading inside of Ichigo.

* * *

 

_“Where are we going?”_

Ichigo walked onward in silence.

_“Isn’t this the way we came?”_

Ichigo rolled his eyes.

_“You stupid little sow! Say something!”_

“We’re going this way.” Ichigo barked. “Yes, this is the way we came.” Ichigo nearly growled. “Yes, I realize it. I’m doing it on purpose.” Ichigo chewed out each word, spit spraying across his lips in anger. “And I’m not stupid. You’re stupid.”

_I’m not stupid, you’re stupid_ , Ichigo couldn’t believe how childish he sounded.

_“How dare you…”_ the Master was insulted. It was almost comical.

“We’re going back the way we came.” Ichigo continued. “And I’d prefer it if we didn’t speak to one another unless absolutely necessary…”

_“Fine.”_ The Master hissed.

And for five years he didn’t mutter another syllable.

* * *

 

Ichigo looked around cautiously before undressing. He stripped quickly, darting into the pond. The water was cold and brackish. He floundered about for a few minutes, letting the dirt and grime wash off his skin.

He pressed his hand to the stone flesh on his chest and abdomen. It had been years since it had appeared and it remained unchanged. To his dismay, the rest of him seemed to halt as well. He hadn’t grown any taller, any wider. The slope of his nose was slight, his cheeks were still round with youth.

He rarely looked at himself. He stashed away the mirror from Grimmjow in the very bottom of his pack. He didn’t need any reminders of the past. And nothing was a more painful reminder than his own unchanging reflection. He even shied away from looking at his own face copied on the surface of the water.

Ichigo dunked his head underwater quickly, rubbing both hands through his cropped, coppery hair. He removed chunks of dried dirt and bunches of sand, nearly scratching his scalp raw. It didn’t matter what he looked like. It didn’t matter if he took care of himself.

* * *

 

Ulquiorra was speaking to him again, for now. The Master was arrogant and ostentatious. It wouldn’t be long before they butt heads again. Ichigo often wondered if the Master thought his silence was a punishment. The thought kept Ichigo warm on particularly cold nights. The Master was the most ridiculous of the pair.  And as useless as Ichigo believed himself to be, he thought his Master was even more so.

Ichigo was admittedly lost in thought when he collided with a wooden cart.

 “Hey, kid!” a man shouted, smacking a large stick against his cart. “Off with ya!”

Ichigo looked around, searching for the pitiful, little soul that the vendor was speaking to. The man smacked his stick over and over, louder and louder. He pointed at Ichigo, sneering at his worn rags, dust-covered skin, and dirty, unkempt hair. “Go away! Customers only!”

Ichigo halted abruptly in the street. He felt something coil inside of him. The Master was awake and paying very close attention. Ichigo licked his cracked, dry lips before responding, “Excuse me?”

The man approached, pressing the end of his stick into Ichigo’s belly. “Go on! Off!”

Ichigo’s eyes widened, “This is a public street.”

The man grew angrier, jabbing the stick into Ichigo’s stomach again and again, “You’ve not got any money! Go away!”

Ichigo grabbed the end of the man’s stick, holding it in place. The man wriggled, trying to yank the stick free of Ichigo’s grasp. Ichigo crushed the stick in one hand, crumbling the wood into a thousand miniscule pieces. “You have the nerve to touch me?”

The man was confused but furious. “I won’t be stolen from!”

Ichigo turned to survey the vendor’s wares. It was two neatly arranged carts of tomatoes. Ichigo grabbed a piece of fruit and tossed it into the air before catching it. He studied the ripe, round fruit before taking a huge bite. He didn’t like tomatoes, he never had, but that hardly mattered now.

The man began to shout, but Ichigo tuned him out. He tossed the tomato to the dusty ground and selected another. He took one bite from the fruit and threw it against the wall behind the screaming man. The man grabbed him and before he could react, Ichigo had lifted the man off his feet by the collar of his shirt. Ichigo held the man high in the air, as if he was weightless, while he selected another beautiful tomato.

_“That’s not like you.”_

Ichigo scoffed at the Master’s uncharacteristic comment. He stomped his foot down hard on one of the tomatoes. “How would you know?”

Ichigo released the man. The man scrambled away, muttering in pure terror. Ichigo turned, his eyes rolling around in his head at unnatural angles. And then, without warning, his tongue darted out of his mouth. His long, thick tongue wrapped around the man’s midsection.

Ichigo looked around. There were two women at the mouth of the street, watching on in horror. Ichigo smiled around his tongue. In the blink of an eye, he gulped, swallowing the man down whole. The women began to scream, loud and manic. Ichigo leisurely picked out two tomatoes before strolling down the street toward the women.

He handed a tomato to the first woman and placed the second tomato in the other’s basket. He nodded his head in friendly gesture, “They’re fresh.”

* * *

 

“You’ve changed.”

Ichigo looked at Ulquiorra weakly. He’d been vomiting blood for three days and his high fever made him wonder if he was hallucinating. “I’m sick,” Ichigo finally replied.

“No.” Ulquiorra replied, staring at the boarded up window as if he could see beyond it. “It’s something else.” Ichigo pulled the blanket up under his chin, shivering violently. He watched Ulquiorra with empty eyes. “Not that I care but…” Ulquiorra paused, his green eyes meeting Ichigo’s.

“I’m your vessel.” Ichigo said simply.

Ulquiorra nodded slowly, “Yes.”

Ichigo laughed bitterly, “Why on Earth would you want to be me?” Ulquiorra opened his mouth to respond but Ichigo cut in, “I don’t even want to be me…” Ichigo’s laughter morphed into sobs. The shifter’s weak body shook as he bawled until he couldn’t breathe.

Ulquiorra was on his feet in front of Ichigo in an instant. He lifted his pale hand and placed it on Ichigo’s forehead. The gesture was gentle but emotionless. He brushed over Ichigo’s skin and murmured his command, “Go to sleep.”

* * *

 

_“I’ve come to realize…”_ the Master began one day. _“That humans are social creatures.”_

Ichigo nodded. “I guess.”

_“Therefore, to an extent, shifters must be too.”_

Ichigo groaned in response, “What are you getting at?”

_“I…”_ the Master hesitated and Ichigo could feel his uncertainty. It was an odd emotion coming from his Master. _“It seems,”_ the Master said, changing directions. _“That your mental state is deeply compromised by your lack of social opportunities.”_

Ichigo laughed, “Is that your fancy way of saying that I’m going crazy? Yes, I know. It’s your fault entirely…”

_“I agree.”_ The Master said, much to Ichigo’s disbelief. _“But it will affect my future if this continues.”_

“And?” Ichigo muttered. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

The Master was silent. Ichigo realized he had an idea but didn’t want to say it aloud. Just thinking about the Master being too embarrassed to speak made Ichigo warm and fuzzy inside. Finally the Master replied, _“We must find you a suitable companion.”_

Ichigo hadn’t expected such a normal answer from his Master. Ichigo frowned thoughtfully, “But,” Ichigo protested slowly. “I can’t be around humans for too long.”

_“Hence our current predicament… Obviously…”_

“Alright then,” Ichigo snapped. “What should I do then? If you’re so smart…”

The Master was beyond annoyed with Ichigo when he replied, “We just need to find a non-human companion then, don’t we?”

“Like a pet?” Ichigo asked, his face splitting into an excited smile.

The Master clicked his tongue, as if amazed by his shifter’s stupidity, “I meant another shifter…”

Ichigo nodded, his cheeks flushing with color. “Of course.” Ichigo frowned in realization, “But the other shifters don’t want to be around me cause I’m under a contract…”

The Master was silent for the briefest of moments, “Then we’ll find one still under contract too.”

“Well,” Ichigo began unsurely. On the one hand, he would kill for some company, but on the other… “Wait! No, Master!”

The Master was amused. “I’ll just have to make another.”

...

But, as it turned out, the Master couldn’t just make another.

“Damn it!” Ulquiorra snarled, punching the ground with his deathly white hand.

Ichigo stood beside the Master watching the wretched person in front of him writhe and moan on the ground. The third attempt had ended up being the most gruesome. Ichigo found that he couldn’t look away, no matter how ghastly it was to watch.

Ichigo kneeled down beside the young man and clasped his hand in his. The young man tried to speak, but it only came out as a screech. Ichigo steeled himself, brushing a soothing hand over the other young man’s face, “It’s okay…” Ichigo lied. “It’s alright.”

“Damn it!” Ulquiorra shouted, pushing himself up on his feet. He began to pace back and forth. He was furious, even if it didn’t show on his masklike face. “Why? Why are humans such weak things?”

Foul steam poured from the man’s body. His flesh was bubbled and raw. From afar he looked badly burned, but up close you could see, in excruciating detail, that his body was turning inside out.

“It’s okay.” Ichigo repeated softly. “It’s alright.”

“Fuck!” Ulquiorra spat, enormous, black wings erupting from his back. His transformation only infuriated him further. He tore at the fur spreading across his white skin. He gouged the flesh of his elongating ears. “Fuck!”

The dying man screeched wildly. Ichigo shook his head and scooted closer. Every sense he had was revolted, but he still placed his hand on the other man’s body, touching softly. “It’s okay.” Ichigo murmured. “It’s alright.”

“Move.” Ulquiorra commanded, his glowing green eyes wide and dangerous.

Ichigo wanted to move back, but something stronger held him in place. He held the man’s hand, ignoring the hot, wet sensation between their palms. Ulquiorra raised his hand, his black nails long and gnarled. And then he suddenly curled his hand in a fist.

The man’s hand disintegrated. There was a peculiar **pop!** and blood and tissue exploded across Ichigo and like a shadow onto the grass. Ichigo opened his mouth, an unconscious cry escaping his lips. The ground was clean where the man had been lying but blood was everywhere else, like an outline of the horrific scene.

“I can’t…” Ulquiorra whispered, nearly too quietly to hear. “Why can’t I do it?”

Ichigo rolled to his feet. He approached Ulquiorra cautiously before extending his hand out to his Master. He placed his warm, peach-colored hand on Ulquiorra’s chalky skin. Ulquiorra froze in place. Ichigo took a deep breath and patted his Master’s back.

Ichigo didn’t dare speak. He removed his hand from his Master and turned, exhaling a relieved breath. Ulquiorra suddenly gripped Ichigo, roughly spinning him around to face him. He held him so tightly that Ichigo’s shoulder was forced out of socket. Ichigo grimaced silently, his large, brown eyes searching Ulquiorra’s expressionless face.

“Why’d you touch me?” Ulquiorra demanded. He held Ichigo’s shoulder roughly in place and slid his other hand around Ichigo’s slender neck. He pressed his thumb against Ichigo’s throat, enough to bruise the flesh.

“I’m so-rry…” Ichigo choked out.

“Why?” Ulquiorra repeated.

“I…” Ichigo finally managed to speak. “I don’t need… a-a-nother sh-if-ter…” Ichigo gagged. “I-it’s o-kay…”

“You think I care what you need?” Ulquiorra hissed. Ulquiorra would’ve laughed at the very thought if he were anyone else.

“No…” Ichigo gasped for air. “I’m s-or-ry…”

Ulquiorra released Ichigo, shoving him away forcefully. Ichigo stumbled backward before falling to the ground. Ichigo clutched at this throat, his breathing sharp and desperate. “I don’t need a pathetic thing like you to comfort me.”

Ichigo nodded weakly, “Uh huh. Yes. I’m sorry.”

Ulquiorra watched Ichigo with cold eyes before adding, “It’s disgusting.”


	19. In the Cosmos

** Part XIX: In the Cosmos **

_“I don't think I'll ever see [him] again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful."  
_ — Ann Druyan

* * *

 

He lay on his back and swirled his hands through the stars. He was enraptured by the way the sky moved, the way it rippled like water beneath his touch. It was breathtaking and he nearly wept when he thought he might have to blink.

The blonde beside him laughed. His own hands were clasped on his chest and he moved between staring at Grimmjow and looking at the dancing sky.

“What’s so funny?” Grimmjow asked, his voice fluctuating in an inhuman manner.

The blonde laughed again, “Just ride it out. It’s all you can do. Ride it out.”

“I can see Earth.” Grimmjow breathed out, his fingers reaching for some invisible thing. “And I’m not on it…”

The blonde sat up and grabbed the hookah between them. He pulled it into his lap and began to puff happily on the mouthpiece. “You’ll be fine. Enjoy it.”

‘Enjoy it’. The very thought of something as simple as enjoyment never struck Grimmjow. He was there, on the cusp of the creation of the universe and he was supposed to ‘enjoy it’. Grimmjow was breathlessly in love with the night sky, with the stars, with the cosmos.

Grimmjow painted the galaxy with a single finger. Everything he touched exploded with color. Bright light sparked and burned and consumed the darkness until there was nothing except color surrounding Grimmjow.

“It’s amazing.” Grimmjow murmured, his dilated eyes focusing on something just out of sight.

The blonde beside him sighed, smoke unfurling from his mouth, “Yeah.” He agreed as he looked up at the sky. “It is.”

Grimmjow slowed, his arm growing tired. The burst of color in the sky began to drip together, mixing to create a muddied hue. Grimmjow watched the new color develop carefully, his fingertip mingling the paint. The sky faded into a burnt orange shade that enveloped even the stars.

And that was when he saw something he wasn’t expecting. Grimmjow tried to sit up but his body was too heavy. He blinked slowly, uncertainly. He couldn’t be certain of what he saw but he knew he wanted to follow it. He raised his hand, reaching out with all of his might. His fingertips smeared the paint and- the thing he thought he saw?- it was smudged off the canvas.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Grimmjow breathed out, finally pushing himself onto his elbow. “Wait!”

“What’s wrong?” the blonde beside him asked, watching him with serious eyes.

“I…” Grimmjow hesitated. He looked at his fingers and suddenly they were stained with blood. Grimmjow shook his head and scrambled backward. He let out a bewildered snarl. “I fucked up.”

The blonde unhurriedly set his hookah down where it disappeared into thin air. He leaned forward, his hand pressing against Grimmjow’s forehead. “Relax. You’re having a bad trip.”

Grimmjow shook his head, his breathing becoming jagged. “No. No. I fucked up.”

The blonde rubbed small, soft circles into Grimmjow’s skull. “Relax.”

“Fuckin’ stop, Kira!” Grimmjow shouted, sobering up. He yanked out of the blonde’s grasp and rolled to his feet. He began pacing back and forth, claws piercing through his fingertips. “I fucked up. I…I… I was… Fuck!”

Kira was surprised. He thought he had removed the stress from Grimmjow’s mind. He thought he was calming him down. Kira frowned deeply, his brows furrowed together. “I see you’re upset, but why?”

Grimmjow dropped into a squat, his arms wrapped around his legs. He buried his face into his knees and let out a terrible snarl. “… scared…”

“Hm?” Kira murmured.

“I fucked up.” Grimmjow repeated, slapping his hand against his legs in anger. “I was scared.”

Kira sighed heavily. He considered his response before replying, “The longer you live the more mistakes you make.”

“Damn it!” Grimmjow barked. “I don’t need a pep talk.”

Kira’s blue eyes narrowed, “What do you need then?” Kira stood in place. “Do you need forgiveness or something? I can’t give it to you. Do you need to make a confession? Oh, please. I’m no Saint. What do you need and who do you need it from?”

Grimmjow looked up to meet Kira’s gaze. “I’m having a bad trip.”

Kira nodded, “Yes.”

“Yeah…” Grimmjow breathed out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” Kira insisted flatly. “I like you too much to lie to you.”

“Fuck.” Grimmjow muttered, wiping his hands roughly over his face. “What the hell was that? Damn…”

“That’s the last time I’m sharing my Tryptamine with you…” Kira replied.

“Agh.” Grimmjow groaned. “Damn it. Sorry.”

“It’s not my business and I don’t care what you did,” Kira insisted. “But you seemed bothered…” Kira lifted his hand in gesture. “Let me help. It’s the only benefit of being my kind, after all…”

“No.” Grimmjow refused, shaking his head. He pushed up onto his feet and brushed himself off. “That’s okay.”

“I can make you feel better.” Kira assured him.

Grimmjow shook his head again, “I know. I just don’t deserve it.”

Grimmjow groaned, rubbing at his eyes. The burnt orange sky was gone, leaving a black blanket speckled with silver stars. But his eyes kept playing tricks on him. He could swear that he saw a pair of brown eyes watching him. He rubbed his eyes again roughly, his skin prickling as those watchful eyes flashed green and curious.

“Oh, what the world could be if we only got what we deserved…” Kira mused, pulling a blanket out of thin air. He wrapped up, cocooning himself in the fluffy blanket. He spared Grimmjow a pitying glance. “It’s cruel really, how beautiful life could be.”

* * *

 

Ichigo thought his mind was playing tricks on him at first. It’d been so long. He was thousands of miles away from anywhere. But when he heard his name shouted over the bustle of the crowded city, he knew he wasn’t imagining anything.

“You skipped town, Ichigo. Why’s that?” one of the men barked, calling over the crowd to Ichigo. Ichigo hesitated, looking around at the villagers and the sun hot and high overhead.  “You owe me.” The man bellowed, grabbing Ichigo’s shirt collar and twisting. “I lost an entire head of cattle because of you…”

“Ah, I-I’m sorry,” Ichigo murmured, placing his hand on top of the man’s. He curled his fingers around the man’s, prying them off with as little force as necessary. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“Nuh uh.” The second man interjected, shaking his head in refusal. “Ain’t no one else have such unfortunate hair color.”

“And when was this?” Ichigo asked, ducking out from under the man’s grip. “I’ve been here for weeks.”

“Why, it’d be around ten years now.” The man reasoned, narrowing his eyes. “But I remember like it was yesterday. “I’m angry, ya know…”

“Well, see,” Ichigo explained, smiling apologetically. “It couldn’t have been me, because ten years ago I was…” Ichigo gestured to himself pointedly. “Do I look old enough to be, uh, working for you or whatever, ten years ago?”

The bystanders murmured in agreement and the two men suddenly looked very embarrassed. “Alright then, where’s your father? Or brother? You got one of those?”

“I don’t.” Ichigo replied impatiently. He walked around the man in annoyance. The sun was unbearably hot. He felt as if he was melting. He made for the nearest building, a bar, “I’ve business to attend. Excuse me.”

_“You’re cutting it close.”_

Ichigo opened his mouth, fanning himself weakly, “Yeah, yeah.”

_“This is why I say to travel at night.”_

“Markets aren’t open at night,” Ichigo replied. “At least not in pissing holes like this.”

_“You don’t need markets.”_

“I need to eat, Master.” Ichigo panted, pushing open the door of the pub. “So I need money.”

_“Just take what you need.”_

“That gives us unwanted attention.” Ichigo explained for the hundredth time. “And then angry men chase us down in markets halfway across the world…”

_“You can take them.”_

“One on one, two on one, hell even five on one, sure.” Ichigo reasoned. “But if you have it your way it’ll be me against the world.”

_“It already is.”_

Ichigo groaned, sliding into a chair in the corner of the dark, damp room. “Stop talking. I’ll look crazy.”

The Master gave the sort of energy that said he would be smiling, if he did such a thing, _“You already do.”_

Ichigo sighed, settling onto the hard, creaking chair. He looked around the tavern. It was full of sad, fat locals. A few prostitutes stood crowded around some high roller in the far corner. It was the same everywhere. People were the same everywhere.

“Wha’d’ya want, kid?” the barkeep snapped. “We haven’t got milk.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, the color shimmering from brown to green. “I’ll take water.”

“If ya want water, go outside with the horses…”

_“I’ll take a water.”_

“It’s hot.” Ichigo added with a forced, unamused smile.

“Alright, one water coming up.” The barkeep sighed.

_“As if it’s hard…”_

“Shhhh…” Ichigo murmured halfheartedly. “It’s my turn to talk.”

The Master was silent for a long stretch of time until he couldn’t contain himself any longer.  He swirled Ichigo’s finger through the half drank cup of cloudy water listlessly. _“Are we going to stay here all day?”_

“The sun’s still out.” Ichigo replied absently, his skin prickling from some odd sensation. He felt it, a pang of ice cold discomfort that had settled into his lower stomach. He licked his lips and looked around, searching for whatever was setting him off.

_“This feeling…”_ Ulquiorra murmured.

“It’s…” Ichigo began at the same time that his Master stood, their chair scraping the floor raucously.

_“One of my kind.”_ The Master finished in elation, though it was nearly imperceptible.

Ichigo didn’t bother fixing his chair. He tossed a single copper coin at the barkeep for the water before rushing out of the bar. He walked down the street, slipping in-between people before finally running through the crowd.

Something propelled him forward. At the time he didn’t realize it, but it was the Master’s overwhelming emotions that had bubbled over and into his own. Ulquiorra’s excitement had become contagious. And he ran at full speed, his visage pixelating before completely disappearing from view.

He ran out of the market and away from the city. He ran until the sun began to set behind the mountains, and finally, when he was facing pure exhaustion, he found himself at the next village. He held his side in discomfort as he reappeared. He looked around the dusty little town before heading for the center.

There was a two-story wooden construct, new and neat. Ichigo surveyed it cautiously. For the first time since he stood up, he began to have doubts. He hesitated but Ulquiorra urged him onward. _“I can’t believe it…”_ Afterward, Ichigo would spend hours wondering how his Master could ever speak in such a vulnerable, confused way. But right here, in front of the door, he could sense the immense power. It was more power than even his own Master possessed. It was enough to choke the air from his lungs.

_“Knock.”_

Ichigo raised his fist obediently and rapped his knuckles against the door. There was a shuffling noise and after a forever-like moment, the door swung open. There stood a man with light-colored eyes and unkempt brown hair that fell in ringlets down his back. He looked Ichigo up and down, his nose held in the air.

Ichigo could feel his Master’s reaction bubbling up in his throat. His Master was offended greatly that Ichigo’s appearance didn’t seem to sit well with this other shifter. The Master hissed in pure rage, _“Open the door, slave… Step aside.”_

The other shifter smiled crookedly. He wasn’t unattractive, but something about the way he looked at Ichigo made him repulsive. Ichigo cleared his throat, but the shifter didn’t budge an inch. He held the door tightly, his broad body barring their entry. “My Master isn’t having visitors tonight…”

Ulquiorra let out a dry exclamation of disbelief, and then followed with a haughty, _“You tell him that…”_

The shifter shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head in slow, pointed refusal. He spoke over Ulquiorra, he dared to speak over Ulquiorra, “He isn’t taking visitors tonight.”

“Listen,” Ichigo interjected diplomatically, raising his hands peaceably. The voice change seemed to shock the other shifter, at least enough to momentarily wipe the smug expression off his face. “My Master wishes to meet with your Master. Surely, your Master won’t mind…”

The other shifter inspected Ichigo all over again. “Your Master?”

Ichigo nodded, a childish bit of him relishing the confusion from the other shifter. “Yes. My Master, Ulquiorra.”

The other shifter swallowed thickly, turning to look behind him as if he fully expected to be immediately reproached. “Wait here a moment… I’ll… I’ll go ask…”

_“That’s better.”_ Ulquiorra huffed. _“Fucking simpleton.”_

“I’m sorry about that.” Ichigo said, immediately feeling foolish for it.

_“You’d never be such an imbecile…”_ Ulquiorra muttered, vindicating Ichigo. _“I’m surprised his slave is trained so poorly.”_

“Maybe he’s new?” Ichigo reasoned, waiting anxiously for the shifter to return to the door.

_“What’s taking so long?”_ Ulquiorra complained, voicing Ichigo’s growing concern.

The sun had completely set before the door opened again. The shifter smiled sheepishly, his cheeks red. He breathed in and out loudly and his unkempt hair was damp and frizzing. He could have been very handsome if he wasn’t such a pretentious ass, Ichigo thought. The shifter held tightly onto the door and Ichigo’s heart sank.

“I’m very sorry.” The shifter announced. “But the Master isn’t taking any visitors tonight.”

Ichigo gasped as fiery rage erupted within him. He saw stars behind his eyes and his hands began to shake violently. He opened his mouth to speak but neither he nor his Master could form words. Ichigo stumbled backward, his entire body feeling as if it might tear apart.

The other shifter smiled again, a smile that made Ichigo want to peck out his eyes. “Good evening.”

The insult was unbearable. Ichigo felt tears leak from his eyes and roll down his cheeks. He didn’t understand why, but he couldn’t fight back the sob that clawed its way out of his throat. He turned his back on the building and raked his fists across his wet face. His tongue collected the salty tears from his lip and he drank them down bitterly. He didn’t even know who had denied them, but he felt his Master’s anguish as if it were his own.

_“Don’t cry.”_  His Master chided, and he sounded exhausted. _“I’ll kill you if you dare shed another fucking tear…”_

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why…” Ichigo apologized in confusion, wiping his face in desperation.

The Master fumed in silence for a long moment before replying, _“The nerve of him...”_

“What should I do?” Ichigo asked, a fresh wave of rage washing over him. He was ready to turn back around and burn that whole fucking building to the ground.

The Master seemed distant when he answered, _“Don’t mind it. We’re leaving.”_

Ichigo nodded and obeyed reluctantly. He didn’t want to retreat, his Master’s pride wounded. He wanted to start with that shifter. And he wanted to do terrible, unspeakable things to him. And then he’d burn that house down. And he’d drag that other Master out. And then, together, he and his Master would… And that’s where Ichigo returned to his senses. There was no reward for his loyalty. His Master wanted him dead and in the end, he would be so.

His furor subsided, he was unbelievably curious. Who was the Master who’d refused Ulquiorra? Why did the shifter take so long to return? What sort of power did that Master wield? And what sort of Master could have Ulquiorra retreat without incident? He didn’t ask any of these questions because he knew his Master would never answer them.

* * *

Ichigo’s feet ached. The moonlight was bright, lighting his way down the worn path. He walked leisurely, the night breeze ruffling through his hair and clothes. The intense heat of the day had given way to the chill of late evening. Ichigo shuddered involuntarily. He was exhausted and his feet hurt, but the view was incomparable.

They walked along a lonely dirt road. Wild Jasmine grew alongside it, like a fence. The scent was calming and the cool air was refreshing. Green hills rolled away into the horizon. It was beautiful and idyllic, even in the low lighting of the moon and stars.

_“What are you doing?”_

Ichigo paused, looking around in confusion. “What do you mean?”

_“That sickening putt-putter…”_

Ichigo still wasn’t sure what his Master meant, but he wouldn’t admit to such a thing, “Sorry, Master.” Ichigo quickened his pace. “Should I walk faster?”

The Master seemed placated and Ichigo figured he’d guessed correctly. But then the Master exhaled heavily, _“What is wrong with you?”_

“Nothing’s wrong.” Ichigo answered, shaking his head in confusion. “What am I doing wrong?”

_“Your…”_ the Master trailed off.

Ichigo’s exhaustion seemed to have finally caught up with him. He stifled a yawn and looked up at the sky. It was probably early morning now; he had at least another four hours fit for travelling.  There wasn’t a town for miles.

“Master,” Ichigo breathed out sleepily. “I need to stop.”

But the Master didn’t reply. Ichigo held his breath, his nerves chasing away his tiredness. He swallowed thickly, searching out his Master. But there was nothing. He felt chilled to the core at the unexpected abandonment. “Master?”

“Master?” Ichigo repeated more sharply. “Master!”

“He can’t hear you.”

Ichigo spun around. He looked the other man up and down, his fingertips tingling.  “What are you doing here?”

Grimmjow gave a half-smile, but his blue eyes showed nothing but his guilt. “Just checking in.”

Ichigo cocked his head to the side, absorbing Grimmjow’s statement. He shook his head, a strange, barking laugh erupting from inside him. “Checking in?”

“It’s been a while, huh?” Grimmjow breathed out before chewing on his bottom lip.

Ichigo stared at the other shifter for a long moment before saying, “You left me.”

“Yeah.”

“You left me there to die…”

“Yeah.”

“And now you’re… You’re just standing there talking like nothing ever happened?”

Grimmjow flinched, “Yeah.”

Ichigo’s brown eyes widened in shock, “Why?”

Grimmjow shrugged, and he suddenly looked so young and vulnerable, “I fucked up.”

“Yeah.” Ichigo agreed.

“I thought you were dead.” Grimmjow began to explain. “I thought it was him. I don’t know it was just so much blood… and your eyes… his eyes… it was…” Grimmjow began pacing agitatedly. “I didn’t think there was anything to be done.”

“How’d you find me?” Ichigo asked, cutting Grimmjow off sharply.

“I don’t know…”

“How’d you find me?!” Ichigo repeated impatiently.

“I just can, okay?” Grimmjow replied, jerking his shoulders irritably.

“Do you have any idea how long it’s been?” Ichigo demanded, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“I don’t know… ten years or so?” Grimmjow reasoned with a shrug.

Ichigo smiled but his eyes were dangerous, “Wrong.” Ichigo turned around, his back stiffening. “It’s been sixty four years.”

“Oh.”

“And three months.” Ichigo added for good measure, his eyes tearing into Grimmjow where he stood.

“I fucked up.” Grimmjow confessed, following after Ichigo, his hand held over his mouth as if he might become sick.

“No.” Ichigo breathed out, casting another cold look over his shoulder. “I was just fucking stupid back then.”

“No, really, I…” Grimmjow hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

Ichigo halted on the path. He waited until Grimmjow caught up before turning to face the older shifter, “Why are you here?”

Grimmjow recalled the vivid dream-like trance he’d been in, where he’d seen Ichigo. He didn’t know what to say and his hesitation seemed only to enrage Ichigo further. Grimmjow cursed loudly, his hand wrapping around Ichigo’s arm roughly. “Wait a minute.”

Ichigo yanked Grimmjow’s hand off of him but Grimmjow grabbed him again with the other. Ichigo dug his claws into Grimmjow’s flesh but Grimmjow held tightly, blood streaming down his wrists. “Wait a minute…”

“Why should I?” Ichigo growled, fighting against Grimmjow’s hold.

Grimmjow released Ichigo immediately, his eyes dropping to the ground, “You don’t have to do anythin’ ya don’t wanna… but I wish you’d hold on a minute, I want to talk to ya…”

Ichigo smiled handsomely, “This is a dream, isn’t it? You’re using Love Cervere on me…”

“Well, uh, yeah…” Grimmjow admitted.

“I don’t know how you found me,” Ichigo said slowly. “But I’m not the same person I was back then. You’ve got the wrong guy. And the wrong idea.” Ichigo flashed a tight smile. “And I’d like you to leave me alone.”

“Let me out.” Ichigo demanded, turning his back on Grimmjow.

The next moment he was back on the dirt road. Dust was kicking up from his feet. There were no flowers along the road, no jasmine scent in the air. There was nothing except the crippling weight of his Master inside of him.

_“What’s going on?”_ Ulquiorra demanded. _“Your heart is beating like mad.”_

“It’s nothing.” Ichigo answered, his bottom lip quivering as he spoke. “I thought I saw something.”


	20. Sigh No More

** Part XX: Sigh No More **

_"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,  
Men were deceivers ever,-  
One foot in sea and one on shore,  
To one thing constant never."   
_ — William Shakespeare, _Much Ado about Nothing_

* * *

“Ichi! Come on!”

“No!” Ichigo growled, smacking his hand through the center of the floral wreath where Grimmjow’s head had emerged from. Crushed petals fluttered to the ground, but Grimmjow had already disappeared.

“Ichi-go…” Grimmjow drawled, dangling upside down from the branch overhead.

“No! Just… agh! Let me out of here!” Ichigo shouted in exasperation, raking his claws across the now empty tree branch.

“I want to talk to you.” Grimmjow repeated for the hundredth time.

Ichigo’s jaw twitched. He turned around, sensing Grimmjow behind him. He looked the older shifter up and down, his eyes narrowed into furious slits. He was growing tired of this. Ichigo sighed, rubbing his face wearily, “Let me out.”

Grimmjow nodded slowly, “Okay.”

“Thank you.” Ichigo breathed in relief, his hands pressed palms together in gesture.

“But I’ll keep trying.” Grimmjow added, his voice growing faint. “Until you’ll listen.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” Ichigo snapped, suddenly stepping down hard on a sharp piece of rock. The stone pierced the sole of his foot and blood spurted into the shallow water. He stumbled unsurely the scenery around himself changing drastically. Ichigo cursed, splashing through the water in an attempt to right himself. Ichigo was pissed. Grimmjow kept fucking with him. He could’ve walked straight off a fucking cliff.

As it was, he had unconsciously walked into the icy stream. How long had he been in the other place? There were no flowers here, no lush trees or soft grass. The mountains ahead were rocky, with small, strangled sprouts of green. The mountains were gloomy and forbidding.

_“What’s wrong with you?”_ Ulquiorra demanded.

“I…” Ichigo hesitated, a shiver running down his spine. “I don’t know,” Ichigo lied for simplicity’s sake. He breathed out heavily, steam unfurling from his lips. He shivered again, his arms wrapping around himself for warmth. “I think I fell asleep.”

_“You stupid fucking pig.”_

“I’m sorry, Master.” Ichigo replied lamely.

_“You’re worthless.”_

“I know, Master.” Ichigo agreed, nodding his head obediently.

_“You’re bleeding.”_ The Master pointed out, his voice softening.

“It will stop in another minute.” Ichigo answered.

The Master snapped, _“I know that. How stupid are you? Who gave you the ability to heal in the first place?”_

Ichigo realized then that it didn’t matter if he was in reality or under Love Cervere’s spell; he was doomed to being stuck with an asshole he hated. Ichigo chuckled to himself, not caring if it angered his Master. Ichigo leapt out of the stream and looked up at the mountain range, a sly smile etched across his face. “I am stupid, Master. I’m an absolute fool.”

The Master was curious and it subdued his anger. He spied on Ichigo in silence. He couldn’t fathom what was bringing about the change in his shifter. A hundred years had nearly come and gone. Very nearly. It was almost the end. Delight twisted through the Master.

Ichigo hesitated, a sharp pang stabbing through his chest. He clutched at his shirt and let out an involuntary gasp. His heart sputtered weakly as if it might go out and then, as soon as it began, the pain ended. Ichigo blinked slowly, his fingers slowly releasing his shirt. Ichigo brushed his finger against the stone that covered his chest. A small, coin-sized sheet of stone crumbled beneath his touch, exposing his own flesh underneath.

Ichigo looked away instantly, as if he could keep the information from his Master by sheer force of will. Ichigo dropped his hand to his side and swallowed with great effort. He let out a grunt, hoping to disguise his panic, and took a running leap at the side of the mountain.

_“What are you doing?!”_ Ulquiorra questioned. _“There’s a path!”_

Ichigo scaled the steep earth, the sharp rock slashing his hands and feet. Ichigo licked his lips and steeled himself to continue, “I know, but…” Ichigo pictured the stone all over his body turning to dust and blowing away. He imagined himself disappearing in the wind. “This way’s quicker.”

It crossed Ulquiorra’s mind that Ichigo’s plan was to fall to his death or even simply freeze to death in the mountains. _“It won’t work, you know…”_

“What won’t work?” Ichigo asked through gritted teeth, his hands slippery with his own blood as he climbed.

_“Dying.”_

Ichigo didn’t have an answer to the accusation but the Master took his silence as corroboration anyway. Smugly, the Master continued, _“That body isn’t yours. I won’t have you do as you please with it.”_

Ichigo fantasized about letting go. He was high above the ground now. Even someone like him would splat across the stone, his organs and tissue splashed out like a bucket of dirty water. He hadn’t thought of it before, but once the Master had started in on him, he suddenly felt a very wicked streak of anger toward his own body. Oh how messy it would be if he just let go…

He’d never been an exceptionally curious person. Perhaps it was his Master’s emotions seeping into his own again. But he was suddenly unable to hold out any longer. The curiosity was insatiable. How long would it take to be put back together again?

Ichigo stopped climbing. His hands and feet stung bitterly, but he didn’t mind. He smiled from ear to ear, his eyes closing. And he let go. The wind whooshed past him, whipping through his hair and clothes, lashing against his skin. There was a peculiar noise, like the high-pitched scream of a gnawing fire. And just when Ichigo knew he was about to meet the ground, he stopped abruptly.

“I’ve got you.”

Ichigo’s eyes opened and he stared into a set of bright blues. Ichigo was nearly stunned speechless, he looked all around him in shock before speaking, “What are you… doing…?”

Grimmjow’s warm hands were on Ichigo, burning through him. Grimmjow’s right hand was under Ichigo’s waist, cradling his body above the ground. His left was holding Ichigo’s right hand, his fingers clasped between the younger shifter’s. “You fell…”

Ichigo couldn’t find the words to explain that it wasn’t an accident. He looked up at the ledge where he’d been and he realized he’d made a mistake. It was such a far fall. It was such a pointless action to bring himself such unnecessary pain. Ichigo nodded slowly, still hovering above the ground in Grimmjow’s hold.  “I slipped.”

_“You dare show yourself!”_

Ichigo was confused by his Master’s affronted outburst until he remembered that Grimmjow hadn’t approached _him_ yet. He looked around at the barren wasteland of rock and then at Grimmjow’s shaking arms, still clutching him, and comprehended that Grimmjow wasn’t an illusion this time. Grimmjow finally staggered backward and Ichigo understood the strain that his body must have felt to catch him, from so high and falling so fast. Ichigo stood on his own two feet, but Grimmjow’s tremoring hands lingered on his body for a moment longer.

Grimmjow took a step back and licked his lips. His chin jutted forward and the vulnerable, panicked expression was wiped off his face and replaced with his usual haughtiness. “It’s been a while.”

_“I should kill you, you little worm!”_

“Shhhhhhhh!” Grimmjow sighed, breathing out a wide fan of grey smoke. The smoke was scented sweetly and it made Ichigo’s entire body warm and fuzzy. Ichigo wiped at the sweat that dripped from his forehead. It was an almost impossible thing to do; to sweat. “I’m not talking to you.”

Ichigo couldn’t imagine what his Master would do to Grimmjow for speaking to him in such a way, but he could only wonder for now. The Master’s presence disappeared. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

Grimmjow shook his head, “Nah. He is.”

Ichigo nodded sluggishly, feeling drunk. “You saved me.”

“I wanna talk to you.” Grimmjow spoke softly, closing the distance between them.

Ichigo sat down in place, feeling so heavy and unbalanced. He leaned back on his arms and looked up at Grimmjow, his eyes heavy and hooded. “You’re not fighting fair.”

“I don’t wanna fight.” Grimmjow breathed, kneeling on the ground beside Ichigo.

“What can you say?” Ichigo asked, his face flushing with color. He wasn’t sure if it was the heat or anger or both.

“I shouldn’t have left you that day.” Grimmjow confessed.

“But you did.”

“I did.”

“Anything else?” Ichigo questioned sharply.

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you want from me?” Ichigo snarled. “What?”

“I… I don’t know…” Grimmjow admitted. “Do I have to know?”

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Ichigo barked, rolling onto his knees and scooting away from Grimmjow.

“It’s not you I left! Shit!” Grimmjow shouted, smacking his fist against the ground. “You act like there was no danger for me! You act like I’m some unbelievable coward!” Grimmjow was furious, the veins in his neck protruding, spit flying from his mouth. “You’re being such a fucking bitch! I said I was sorry! I don’t fucking apologize!”

Ichigo stared at Grimmjow in astounded calm for just a moment before kicking out in resentment. His foot connected with Grimmjow’s leg and he kicked hard, over and over, until Grimmjow had wrestled him to the ground. He pinned Ichigo down roughly, the stone biting into his flesh. “Stop it.”

Ichigo’s claws tore into Grimmjow’s arms as they continued to grapple. Ichigo was practically foaming at the mouth, a low snarl rumbling through his chest. Grimmjow lost ground and cursed loudly as Ichigo almost rolled him. “Stop! Stop! Ichigo! Knock it off!”

“Get off of me!” Ichigo shouted back, his eyes wild and fierce.

Belatedly, Grimmjow understood his actions were too aggressive. He didn’t release Ichigo, but he removed his knee from the younger shifter’s stomach. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna fight…”

“You’re the worst.” Ichigo murmured, his body stilling.

“I know.” Grimmjow agreed.

“I hope he kills you.” Ichigo threatened softly.

“I won’t let him kill you.” Grimmjow vowed, his grip softening on Ichigo’s wrists.

“I hope your tongue rots out of your head.” Ichigo continued, lying motionlessly.

“Before that happens, I love you.” Grimmjow nearly choked on the words, a strange tightness in his throat.

“Never say that again.” Ichigo whispered, his brown eyes softening.

“I won’t.” Grimmjow promised, his hand brushing the hair from Ichigo’s face.

“I know.” Ichigo nodded slowly, his head ending up at an odd angle.

Grimmjow’s hand cupped Ichigo’s face and then they were kissing. He wasn’t dreaming, he knew for certain by the sting of the sharp rocks beneath him, but everything seemed to change. The background disappeared into a blue haze and the only thing left was he and Grimmjow and the warmth from their bodies.

“Ah, wait,” Ichigo murmured breathlessly.

Grimmjow’s body was close, his hands were strong yet gentle against him, his breath was hot on his skin. Grimmjow tilted his handsome face to the side, “What’s wrong?”

Ichigo considered his next words carefully before changing his mind and abandoning them entirely. He shook his head, his thumb smoothing across Grimmjow’s cheek, “It’s nothing. Never mind.”

Grimmjow shrugged his jacket off before lifting Ichigo off the rocky ground, holding him in his muscled arms as if he were weightless. The older shifter arranged his finely tailored jacket, smoothing it across the rough ground with his foot before lowering Ichigo back down. He slid between Ichigo’s legs, knocking them apart with his knees. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo said. He felt a strange tickle in his lower stomach.

“Good.” Grimmjow murmured, his lips grazing the skin of Ichigo’s throat.

“Grimmjow?”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t ever chase after you.” Ichigo vowed, his fingertips delicately tracing the muscle of Grimmjow’s neck and shoulders. His fingers slid down to Grimmjow’s hips.

Grimmjow closed his eyes, “I won’t make any promises I can’t keep-”

“I won’t ask you to,” Ichigo interrupted, his fingers digging into Grimmjow’s hips needfully.  Their eyes met and they gazed at one another. “But if you ever…”

“Ever what?” Grimmjow asked, his golden skin filling with lusty color.

Ichigo seemed embarrassed, he shook his head, adjusting his legs beneath Grimmjow. Ichigo licked his lips before finally explaining, “If you ever build another man a den, I’ll never forgive you.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Grimmjow chuckled in amusement.

“Not entirely. But I don’t feel like asking for the impossible and hearing your refusal.” Ichigo shot back, sobering Grimmjow up immediately. Ichigo smiled sadly, “So, I can say in all honesty, if  I ever stop being that person, just leave me alone forever.”

“Never. It’ll always be you.” Grimmjow murmured, his hands smoothing down Ichigo’s hair lovingly. “I swear it.”

“Don’t tell me.” Ichigo instructed, his hands moving between them ever-so-slowly. “Show me.”

Grimmjow smirked, “Aye. Aye.”

* * *

 

“You’re not watching anymore?”

Ichigo had to turn away, it was just too much. Grimmjow’s punishment had been even more severe than Ichigo had anticipated. It had been going for hours when Ulquiorra finally stopped. 

“You’re disgusting.”

Ichigo unconsciously scratched at the bite marks left around his collar bone. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“He’s stopped laughing.” The Master mused, his deep, slow voice still foreign to Ichigo’s ears. “Do you think he’s been punished enough?”

“Yes, Master.” Ichigo replied standing as Ulquiorra approached.

But Ulquiorra was still furious. He gripped Ichigo’s head and forced him back down to the ground. He squeezed Ichigo’s head between his white hands until there was a sickening **pop!** Ichigo’s mandible had splintered beneath the force and his jaw dangled grotesquely. “No one’s laughing now? No one?”

Ichigo howled in agony, writhing in place as Ulquiorra held his skull. There was a muffled grunt from behind him and he knew that Grimmjow was finally reviving. Ichigo squirmed, blood running down his throat, his teeth falling to the ground in front of him.

“He’ll leave you the moment he can run.” Ulquiorra said softly, his green eyes turning to take in Grimmjow before returning his attention to Ichigo. “You stupid, silly child.”

Ulquiorra squeezed Ichigo’s throat with one hand. “You filthy, disgusting whore. You’re not special. You’re easy.”

“Ha!” Grimmjow barked, spitting blood as he spoke. He sat up, his blue hair stained a deep purple. His golden wheat skin was smudged and caked with dried blood, tissue, and dirt. The little clothes he wore to begin with were shredded. His entire body shook violently as he pushed himself to his feet. “Were we done?”

_Damn it. Damn it!_ , Ichigo cursed the heavens. He had precious seconds left to intercept his Master’s wrath but he couldn’t even breathe, let alone speak.

Ulquiorra released Ichigo, tossing him to the ground like a doll. He looked toward Grimmjow with unbridled fascination. His green eyes fucking sparkled when he looked upon Grimmjow.

“Stop… please…” Ichigo moaned feebly. “Stop… Master… please…”

“Please? Stop?” Ulquiorra mocked. “And why should I? What have you ever done for me?”

Ichigo held his jaw in place as it healed, he rubbed it sorely before responding, “He’s trying to protect your body.” Ulquiorra blinked. “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

“Was that what that was? That’s protection?” Ulquiorra demanded, yanking Ichigo up by the arm. He scratched his black nails along the marks Grimmjow had left behind. “This?”

“That’s…” Ichigo thought quickly. “That’s appreciation.”

Grimmjow chuckled, staggering on his feet. “That’s right.”

“I should kill you both for this.” Ulquiorra threatened.

Grimmjow vomited blood into the grass. He looked as if he might faint but he still flashed a dazzling smile as Ulquiorra looked at him. He licked his bloody lips and rocked his head forward in greeting, “But you’re not gonna.”

“And why’s that?” Ulquiorra demanded curiously.

Grimmjow smirked even wider and Ichigo felt his stomach twist. “Cause I’ll let you watch next time.”

Ichigo closed his eyes and sighed deeply. There was a thud and then a pained grunt as blood splattered across the grass with a sopping noise. Ichigo swallowed another mouthful of blood, keeping his eyes closed in an effort to maintain his sanity. Grimmjow’s delirious laughter was more than enough to let him know they’d be there until morning.

* * *

 

“You’re an idiot.” Ichigo muttered, casting a sidelong glance at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow rubbed his swollen, black eyes and nodded, his bruised, bloody face splitting into a painful looking smile. “Yeah. I know.”

“Why on Earth did you need to agitate him?” Ichigo demanded, shaking his head.

Grimmjow shrugged. “He’s so damn … Ugh… I don’t even know the word for it. He’s a fucking bitch.”

“And you’re the asshole who’s still black and blue.” Ichigo pointed out, tossing Grimmjow a piece of bread. Grimmjow smelled the bread and frowned, tossing it over his shoulder and into the grass. Ichigo groaned. “You were supposed to eat that.”

“I don’t eat bird food.” Grimmjow grumbled.

“Can you even hunt like that?” Ichigo questioned, gesturing to his eyes.

“Eh, of course.” Grimmjow shrugged again. “I’m a panther.”

They were silent for a long stretch of time before Ichigo spoke again, “So. You’re still here.”

“Well, yeah.” Grimmjow replied, cracking another excruciating smile. “Now that you’ve both beaten the shit outta me, it should be out of your systems.”

Ichigo scoffed, his hand slapping at Grimmjow, “You!”

“What? Obviously I needed to apologize to him too…” Grimmjow murmured, rubbing his sore stomach gingerly. “He was feeling left out…”

“Be careful.” Ichigo warned. “You don’t want him to hear you.”

Grimmjow made a face but he obediently quieted down. Ichigo kept sneaking glances, and curious, Grimmjow asked, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No. What?” Grimmjow pressed.

“I was just thinking,” Ichigo began. “You’re probably too weak to run away. And that’s why you’re still here…”

Grimmjow nodded up and down empathically, “Hell yeah. That’s it exactly.” He laughed openly, his eyes closing behind thick lashes. He reached out, pressing his hand into Ichigo’s. “I can’t say what, but there’s something about you…”

Ichigo’s face flushed with color. “Shut up.”

“No. It’s true.” Grimmjow insisted. He squeezed Ichigo’s hand before letting go. He looked off, at something far away. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You look so damn sad.” Ichigo laughed awkwardly. “I’m that wretched, huh?”

Grimmjow shook his head and turned, flashing Ichigo a bright smile. “Nah. Just wish I was better.”


	21. If It Had Never Shone

** Part XXI: If It Had Never Shone **

_"It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone."  
_ — John Steinbeck, “ _The Winter of Our Discontent”_

* * *

 

“Ichi…”

“Ichi…”

“Ichi…go…”

“What?!” Ichigo groaned, spinning around on his heels. He looked the older shifter up and down, his lips pursed together unconsciously. Grimmjow grinned impishly as he leaned in, his handsome face mere inches from Ichigo’s.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Grimmjow asked, rubbing his stomach in discomfort.

Ichigo wanted to deny it, but it was pointless. He nodded, shrugging as he looked around the barren wasteland. “Yeah, but there’s nothing to eat out here…”

“Ah, come on now.” Grimmjow clicked his tongue. “I would never expect a desert boy like you to say such a thing.”

“I’m not from the desert.” Ichigo argued.

“Last I was in Macedonia…”

“Mesopotamia!” Ichigo corrected in annoyance.

“Macedonia, Mesopotamia… there’s not really a difference is there? I mean, names change all the time, get used to it.” Grimmjow pointed out, leaning on Ichigo’s shoulder. “That point aside, you’re from the fucking desert, ain’t ya?”

“I lived in the forest.” Ichigo answered, doing his best not to think about his home.

“Surrounded by…?” Grimmjow pressed.

“The… desert…” Ichigo finally gave in. He raised his hands in surrender. “But this desert is worse. It just keeps going! There’s no end! And it’s just rock and dust. I don’t even think this is a _real_ desert…” Ichigo turned in a circle. “Where the hell are we?”

“Oh who knows?” Grimmjow murmured, his hands resting in the top band of his pants lazily. “It’d be easier to tell if we had some light.”

“You can’t see in the dark?” Ichigo snipped.

“Well, yeah, but…” Grimmjow chuckled as he trailed off. He shook his head and hitched his thumb to the southeast. “There’s a village that way. We should walk that way.”

“I’ve never been that way.” Ichigo replied, mostly to himself.

“Well, just when I think I’ve been everywhere, I see a whole new patch of fucking rocks and dirt…” Grimmjow joked. “Rocks and dirt. Sand and dust. Grass and trees. Same ol’, same ol’. But every so often I find something that impresses me.”

“I want to find a beach.” Ichigo blurted, smiling excitedly at Grimmjow. “Maybe not as beautiful as yours, but one like it.”

Grimmjow nodded silently. Ichigo regretted mentioning Grimmjow’s homeland until he remembered Grimmjow had mentioned his only a few minutes prior. Ichigo chewed on his cracked bottom lip as he walked, thinking of anything but Mesopotamia.

“What’re ya thinkin’ about?” Grimmjow asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Home.”

“Ah.” Grimmjow nodded in understanding. “That explains the sad face.”

“I was just thinking,” Ichigo continued, although Grimmjow hadn’t asked. “My dad’s dead. He has to be. He’d be around 120 years old…”

“Nah. He’s fine.” Grimmjow interjected gruffly. “He’s a doctor. They prolly live longer.”

Ichigo smiled gratefully, “Yeah. I’m sure that’s how that works.”

“I don’t see why not…” Grimmjow drawled.

 “And my sisters…” Ichigo added, shaking his head. “They’d be grandmothers by now…”

“Hey,” Grimmjow placed his hand on Ichigo’s shoulder and they stopped walking. Grimmjow squeezed affectionately, his smile somber. “You’ll never know. And that’s okay. As long as ya don’t know, the possibilities are endless. Good and bad. Choose to think about the good ones.”

“Ignorance is bliss?” Ichigo reasoned.

“Exactly.” Grimmjow confirmed, nodding his head and letting his hand slide from Ichigo’s arm. “I wish I had that.” And it looked as if Grimmjow would continue, as if he wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t. “Come on. Let’s find that village and get you something decent to wear. You look like a leper.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve never met such a sloppy shifter.” Grimmjow admonished. Ichigo rolled his eyes, trudging ahead of Grimmjow with a groan. “It’s embarrassing to be seen with you dressed like that.”

“Says the half-naked man.” Ichigo muttered under his breath.

“What’d ya say? Naked? Yeah. It would be better to be naked.” Grimmjow insisted. “You should take all your clothes off. Right now. For decency’s sake…”

“That’s…! Not what I was saying.” Ichigo exclaimed in horror.

“You’re so cute.” Grimmjow breathed out, shaking his head. “How old are you? You’re forever sixteen.”

“God, I hope not.” Ichigo clutched his head, as if the very thought caused him pain.

“Hey, uh, just so ya know…” Grimmjow began carefully gesturing to his chest. “You’re stuff is peeling.”

Ichigo looked down. The stone that covered his chest and abdomen had been chipping away slowly but the instances were increasing. He nodded in acknowledgement before pulling his shirt more tightly around himself. “You should quit looking at me and start looking for something to eat.”

“I wasn’t gonna ask, but I feel like I need to…” Grimmjow reasoned. “What the hell is that?”

“Stone. I think?” Ichigo shrugged unsurely. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“But, uh, like, what is it for?” Grimmjow asked, walking side by side with Ichigo, staring at his chest in wonder.

“Komamura did something to me.” Ichigo answered. “I don’t know anything about it myself. But I get the feeling it’s been keeping me alive all this time.”

“So, the fact that it’s peeling off is probably bad…?” Grimmjow drawled, his eyes wide with concern.

“Most likely.” Ichigo agreed quietly.

“Fuck.” Grimmjow breathed out, his eyes dropping to the ground.

“Yeah.”

“So what can we do?” Grimmjow asked.

_We?,_ Ichigo wanted to ask, but he figured the Master had put him through enough for a few more weeks. Ichigo shook his head, “I don’t think there’s anything that can be done.”

“You’re not gonna just give up.” Grimmjow said. “I mean, it’s your body… he can’t have it.”

“Shhhh…” Ichigo warned, looking up at Grimmjow with startling green eyes. “He’ll hear you.”

* * *

 

_“Why’re you still here?”_

“Tired of me already?” Grimmjow replied, cutting his eyes at Ichigo, or rather, the Master inside of him.

_“Too bad you didn’t just die.”_

“You weren’t _trying_ to kill me, were you? I can’t imagine you _failing_ at killing me…”

“Seriously. Knock it off, you two!” Ichigo scolded, shaking his head in bewilderment. “You’re both old as dirt. Act your age!”

“Now, gentlemen,” Ichigo blurted impatiently. “Let’s find an inn. Because I am not sleeping on the fucking ground again. I swear to God! One of you needs to put up the money or I’ll just…” Ichigo screeched in frustration.

“I got it. I got it.” Grimmjow assured him, patting his coin purse pointedly. “We’ll find someplace for the night.”

“Ah, thank you.” Ichigo breathed out, nodding.

“And he was yelling at us…” Grimmjow teased, winking at Ichigo.

_“Now who’s behaving childishly?”_

* * *

 

“Where are we going?” Ichigo asked, wringing out his shirt. He flapped the soaking fabric, water spraying across his skin. He brought the shirt to his nose and inhaled. Making a face he shoved his shirt back into the water, brushing it sharply against a rock.

“The Council.”

Ichigo looked up in surprise, his eyes meeting Grimmjow’s. “What? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ichigo asked, smiling in excitement.

Grimmjow shrugged, looking off at something in the distance. He kicked out at a rock, mumbling to himself before replying, “I wasn’t sure everyone should know.”

Ichigo’s smile faltered. He nodded in understanding before returning his attention to his laundry. The sun was bright, even as it began to set in the west. He squinted in the light, feeling the warmth baking his exposed flesh. “It feels nice.”

“Hmmm?” Grimmjow hummed, looking up.

“The sun feels nice.” Ichigo explained, washing his clothes.

“You don’t get to feel it often, do ya?” Grimmjow realized, spreading his arms out to catch every ray.

“I can’t remember if I’m sensitive to the light or he is.” Ichigo said suddenly, his hands clawing at his soiled clothes. “Isn’t that sad?”

“You’re almost done.” Grimmjow said, but it sounded as empty as it felt. Grimmjow knew that Ulquiorra’s contract was different. He knew they had a different synergy than any other Master and shifter he’d met.

Graciously, Ichigo forgave the weak attempt and simply said, “Yeah.”

Satisfied with the cleanliness, Ichigo strung his clothes over the branch of a nearby tree. “So,” He called out. “Why are we going there?”

Grimmjow smiled, wondering how long Ichigo’s eyes had been so brilliantly green and if the other shifter even knew it. “No reason.”

“I wonder what everyone’s up to.” Ichigo mused happily, still tending to his clothes, oblivious to the Master’s eavesdropping.

“Enough talking.” Grimmjow said sharply. Ichigo looked at him in confusion but Grimmjow ignored it. “I’m taking a nap.”

Ichigo nodded, watching Grimmjow streak across the field toward their little camp. “Don’t take too long. The sun’ll be down soon.”

Grimmjow lifted his hand and waved, “Yeah, yeah. Got it.”

* * *

“Psst.” Followed shortly with, “You awake?”

Ichigo moaned sleepily, rubbing a slender hand over his face. “Hmmm?”

“You awake?” Grimmjow repeated.

Ichigo’s earthy brown eyes opened, his dark lashes fluttering delicately, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

Ichigo nodded, his round, drowsy face snuggling back against his bedding. “Okay. Good.”

Grimmjow laughed quietly, the sound husky and raw. “Come on. Wake up, Ichi…”

“Why?” Ichigo asked, his eyes meeting Grimmjow’s.

“I don’ know. I’m bored.”

Ichigo nodded again, his hair curling at odd angles. “Go to sleep.”

“I don’ wanna.” Grimmjow pressed, wriggling on the pallet beside Ichigo’s. “I’m not tired.”

“Blink really fast.” Ichigo instructed, his voice slow and deep with grogginess. “You’ll fall right to sleep.”

Grimmjow was silent for a moment before exclaiming, “It’s not working! Wake uuuuup, Ichiiiii!”

Ichigo sat up, glowering at Grimmjow with every ounce of energy he possessed. “Fuck you.”

“Ah! You’re awake!” Grimmjow teased, sitting up and crossing his legs beneath him. “Perfect.”

“What time is it?” Ichigo asked, shielding himself from the light that filtered in through the cracks of the wooden boards.

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Grimmjow muttered, pulling his pack into his lap. He opened the bag, his hand searching blindly through it.

“It’s too bright.” Ichigo complained, falling back against his bedding.

“Here.” Grimmjow announced, presenting Ichigo with a thick strip of dried meat. “Eat up and let’s get moving.”

“Don’t wanna…” Ichigo groaned, taking the meat without hesitation. He gnawed on the dehydrated strip, yanking it over his canines to better tear the meat.

“It’ll be worth it.” Grimmjow breathed, staring at the door as if he could see through it.

Ichigo realized suddenly that Grimmjow was excited. He’d been antsy the whole night before, as if something was on his mind. He’d insisted on stopping at this inn, even though they still had hours of darkness left to travel. Suddenly Ichigo was suspicious. He couldn’t stop the swirl of excitement from growing in his belly. “Why? What’s going on?”

“I’m just bored.” Grimmjow growled. “You’re going to entertain me.” The anticipation Ichigo felt had dissolved. He groaned loudly; chewing rudely, with his mouth open, in an attempt to annoy Grimmjow. Grimmjow only smiled. “That’s nasty, Ichi.”

“Don’t care.” Ichigo replied, finishing his breakfast.

“You’re sure showin’ me…” Grimmjow teased, knocking his knee against the side of Ichigo’s thigh.

“I’d rather be sleeping.” Ichigo confessed, chewing on his fingernails and pretending he’d never been excited.

“Get up.” Grimmjow instructed curtly, jumping to his own feet.

“I swear to God, if you’re taking me to get more clothes, I’ll…”

“Just come.” Grimmjow breathed out, offering his hand to Ichigo in assistance.

Ichigo took Grimmjow’s proffered hand and was pulled quickly to his feet. Ichigo’s heart pounded erratically and he felt a traitorous flush of color filling his cheeks. “Okay.”

Grimmjow’s body pressed against Ichigo’s as he opened the door to their miniscule rented room. The door swung over Grimmjow’s toes, the edge of the door still managing to brush against Grimmjow’s body. Ichigo was thankful that they were too close for Grimmjow to properly see the scarlet stain in his cheeks.  It was hard not to breathe in Grimmjow’s scent at this proximity, and it made his head feel so heavy and hot.

The sun poured into the room flooding every inch with radiating warmth and light. Ichigo let out a small gasp, his forearm pressed tightly over his face as a shield. “Shit. Sorry,” Grimmjow spat, drumming his fingers against the wall. “You’d think I’d remember at some point.”

“It’s okay…” Ichigo breathed out, the bright light nearly overwhelming him. “I’ll adjust in a few minutes.”

“Just… follow… me…” Grimmjow instructed, his hands wrapping around Ichigo’s shoulders as he began to walk. “Just like this...”

Ichigo finally opened his eyes, staring at the ground. Grimmjow was in front of him, walking backward with his hands on Ichigo. Their feet were miraculously missing each other as they shuffled over the sand. Ichigo inhaled. Grimmjow’s pleasant scent lingered, mixing with the overpowering scent of salt spray.

Blindly trusting Grimmjow, Ichigo was led over several rolling dunes of sand. He felt moisture in the breeze, tasted the salt in the air. Birds cried loudly overhead. The strange roaring wind drew close and Ichigo finally realized where they were. He dropped his arm from his face and squinted against the brightness.

“You!” Ichigo shouted, waves washing over his toes.

Grimmjow smiled crookedly, looking at Ichigo as if inspecting his work. Ichigo could only stare at the ocean, wide and blue and unending. And Grimmjow could only stare at Ichigo, flesh and bone and unspeakable wonder.

“It’s the ocean…” Ichigo said, suddenly growing quiet. His hand covered his mouth, his brown eyes scanning the horizon. He looked to Grimmjow expectantly, “this isn’t a dream, is it?”

“No. Not a dream.” Grimmjow promised, his hands dropping from Ichigo’s shoulders and resting at his sides.

“It’s amazing.” Ichigo finally managed to say, finally tearing his eyes away from the sea. He looked down at his feet, wriggling his toes in the wet sand.

“It’s no Atlantis, but it’s okay…” Grimmjow muttered, shoving his hands in the waist band of his pants.

“Oh, Grimmjow!” Ichigo exclaimed, leaping onto Grimmjow and wrapping around him. Grimmjow staggered under the sudden ‘attack’ but he managed to stay on his feet. Ichigo clutched him tightly, excitedly, his lips planting an unconscious kiss on Grimmjow’s golden skin. “Let’s swim!”

“Yeah. We can swim.” Grimmjow agreed, looking at something far off as Ichigo released him.

Ichigo stripped quickly, leaving his clothes haphazardly on the shore. “The water is so…” Ichigo struggled for words. “Clear? Blue? Bright? I don’t know.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh shit.” Ichigo laughed, hopping up and down. “It’s kinda cold though.”

“You’ll adjust.”

Ichigo was waist deep before he realized Grimmjow was still on shore, “You coming?”

Grimmjow smirked, the sun glinting off his skin as if he were metal. “In a minute.”

Ichigo folded down onto his knees, moving with the flow of the water. “It already feels warmer.”

“Told ya.” Grimmjow murmured, a fresh wave washing over his feet and between his legs.

“What are you doing?” Ichigo finally asked, salt water dripping from his hair.

“I don’t know.” Grimmjow admitted. “I…” Grimmjow hesitated. Suddenly he shook his head, his hair splaying around his head messily. He ripped his pants off hurriedly before running straight into the water. He jumped when the water hit his knee, smacking loudly down on his belly beside Ichigo. He stood easily, running his hands through his soaking hair. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t float away…” Grimmjow breathed out, seizing Ichigo by the scruff of his neck.

“I won’t.” Ichigo replied, blowing bubbles in the sea water.

“Don’t drink that water. It’ll make ya sick.” Grimmjow murmured, treading in place.

Ichigo made an annoyed face but his face still flushed in embarrassed color. “I’m not.”

“Ah shit.” Grimmjow groaned, clutching his head. “I ain’t ya daddy.”

“Nope.” Ichigo confirmed, letting salt water drip down his face and off his chin.

It was moments like this that their incredible age gap was most evident. Grimmjow had lived forever, in a way, and had seen and experienced so much already. And Ichigo, though nearly a century old, was just beginning. It was natural for an older shifter to be protective, but somehow it didn’t quite fit with Grimmjow’s image.

“We gonna swim or just float around?” Grimmjow asked, his arms flexing impressively.

“We should catch some fish for dinner.” Ichigo suggested suddenly, looking through the clear water and down at his toes.

Grimmjow smiled approvingly, “Sure. I love fish.”

“Bet you do, kitty kat.” Ichigo teased good-naturedly.

“What? It’s not… it’s not because of that…” Grimmjow insisted. “It’s because I’m from an island. Ya eat lots of fish on an island…”

“Course ya do.” Ichigo nodded slowly, giving an exaggerated wink.

“I could drown you here.” Grimmjow threatened, his voice gruff. “And no one’d even know.”

“You could kill me in a town square and no one would give a shit.” Ichigo pointed out, snorting out an awkward laugh. He stretched his arms above his head, moving as a wave rushed past. He arched his back, the sun warming the droplets on his skin. “I wouldn’t mind so much, ya know. Dying here.”

Grimmjow watched him intently; thankful that Ichigo’s eyes were closed tightly. He gazed at his peach skin, kissed lightly by the sun. He took in his coppery hair, his thick, black lashes. He admired the way that Ichigo’s shoulders and chest were sculpted and even lower… He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the soft edges of Ichigo’s handsome face.  And then he cleared his throat, looking away, “Don’t be fucking stupid. You’re gonna live forever, Ichi.”

Ichigo laughed easily. He waded through the water, further from the shore. He looked over his shoulder, and God, his smile was as brilliant as the sun, “You and I both know that’s not true.”

“What?” Grimmjow made a face. And then he recalled the reading Ichigo had received decades earlier. “You don’t take that shit seriously, do you?”

“Why not?” Ichigo asked. “You and I both know magic is real.”

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side in aggravation, “Sure. But that’s a little…” Grimmjow shrugged, “unlikely.”

Ichigo gestured with his hands, “We may never know. Or rather, we don’t know **yet.** ”

“If I were to die right now, would you chase after me to the grave?” Grimmjow asked, a devilish look in his eye. “Would you risk your life to save mine? Isn’t that what she said?”

“I bet I can catch more fish.” Ichigo changed the subject, swimming deeper into the sea.

“Nah. Don’t change the subject, Ichi-go. You brought it up…” Grimmjow snapped impatiently.

Ichigo’s eyes softened, his tongue darting across his pink, full lips. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, see.” Grimmjow nodded pointedly, sweeping his arm in gesture. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You’re wrong.” Ichigo blurted. “It’s worse this way!”

“How s-”

“I’m so mad at you! I’m _still_ so mad at you! You completely fucked everything up!” Ichigo shouted. “I wouldn’t die for you, you’ve lived long enough! You’re selfish and unreliable and just such an asshole!”

“I…”

“But if she’s right,” Ichigo cut over Grimmjow’s protestations. “That means that you’re such a fucking monster that you make it worse! You actually… You…”

“You’re mad at me for somethin’ I haven’t even done…?” Grimmjow snarled. “The hell is wrong with your head?”

“I’m going crazy!” Ichigo yelled even louder. “I just keep thinking about what it means and it pisses me off!”

“What does it mean?!” Grimmjow demanded, tossing his hands in the air powerlessly.

“She said,” Ichigo’s voice cracked. “She said I would never have a true love, or fall in love, or be in love… whatever she meant… She said I would die alone.”

“She can’t know that…”

“She said I would die, alone and unloved,” Ichigo interrupted calmly. “And what pisses me off-” Ichigo paused, swallowing heavily. “If I die trying to save you…” Ichigo closed his eyes, covering them with his arm. “I would die for you and you, you can’t even stay with me.”

Grimmjow stared at Ichigo in stunned silence for a moment before finally managing to speak, “That’s really unfair.”

“I don’t care.” Ichigo replied, his arm still covering his face. “I’ve been thinking about it for seventy years now. So please…” Ichigo inhaled sharply, his shoulders visibly shaking. “Please don’t say I’ll live forever… as if… as if not even my life is enough to satisfy you…”

“I’ve never asked anything of you.” Grimmjow replied, feeling the ocean between them growing larger and larger.

“I know.” Ichigo breathed out.

“For God’s sake. I just fuck everything up.” Grimmjow spat, his fist pummeling the surface of the water. “It doesn’t even matter what I do, does it? I’m just wrong because some Gypsy bitch said so.”

“Can you sta-”

“Stop.” Grimmjow interrupted harshly. “Just stop.”

“Your word is better to me than hers.” Ichigo called out, his hands curling into fists over his eyes. “If you could just promise me that you’d never lea-”

“Ya know what? I don’t wanna fight.” Grimmjow called out. “You’re on. Let’s see who can catch the most fish before sunset.” Grimmjow smirked from ear to ear. “Ready?”

Ichigo dunked his head under the surface of the water. He popped back up, shaking his head wildly. Water rolled down his cheeks and off his chin. He nodded, his trembling lips held together tightly. He stretched his neck, popping his joints loudly before replying, “Ready.”


	22. Hearts That Bend

** Part XXII: Hearts that Bend **

_"Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken."_    
— Albert Camus

* * *

 

“Fuck. I’m stuffed.” Grimmjow groaned, rubbing his distended belly lazily. He used a thin, sharp fish bone to pick the flesh out from between his back molars.

Ichigo removed his steaming dinner from over the fire pit. The fish didn’t take long to cook and nearly slid off the roasting stick and into the fire. He shuffled the piping hot fish from hand to hand before blowing on it and popping it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully before nodding, “Delicious.”

“You’re losing all the fat when you cook it.” Grimmjow chided.

Ichigo shrugged. “I don’t need it.”

“You’re pretty slender round the middle.” Grimmjow noted. “You’re still shaped like a woman.” Ichigo glowered at Grimmjow from across the fire. Grimmjow backpedaled immediately, “Well, uh, that’s not really what I meant… I just meant that you’re skinny like a teenager still…”

“That’s likely permanent.” Ichigo pointed out, his teeth bared in aggravation.

Grimmjow laughed aloud before settling more comfortably onto the ground. His arms folded beneath his head and he stared up at the night sky. “Likely you’re right.”

_“You’re fighting.”_

Grimmjow pulled himself up, just high enough to look at Ichigo. “Nah. We’re not fighting.”

The Master’s green eyes narrowed in distaste. “What did you do?”

“Why do you think _I_ did something?”

Ichigo laughed loudly, unnaturally. The Master let out an involuntary hiss. _“I wonder.”_

“We’re not fighting, Master.” Ichigo said finally. “We were just discussing the benefit of eating food raw versus cooking it first.”

“ _No before that.”_

Grimmjow looked away, his attention drawn toward the ever-rising tide. Ichigo sighed heavily, folding his arms over his chest. “That was hours ago.”

_“And still yet your heart beats so annoyingly fast.”_

“I get angry, Master.” Ichigo replied tensely. “I’m human.”

“ _You_ were _human_.”

“Hey, Ulquiorra?” Grimmjow called out, rolling onto his side. His blue eyes were wide, searching Ichigo curiously. “Were you ever human?”

_“That question is fucking ridiculous.”_

“Because I’m totally wrong or because ya don’t wanna answer?” Grimmjow questioned. With his head angled up toward the night sky, his eyes wandered over Ichigo slyly.

“Don’t argue with him.” Ichigo chastised. “You know how that’ll end.”

Grimmjow was quieted for only a moment before replying, “I make my own fate.”

It wasn’t Ulquiorra’s sharp green eyes that met Grimmjow’s gaze. Grimmjow swallowed thickly. Ichigo’s gaze was uncomfortably heavy and Grimmjow was forced to look away first. _“Fate?”_ the Master repeated the word as if it was brand new to him. Ichigo’s hand clutched at his chest experimentally, and Grimmjow knew Ulquiorra was moving the body. _“What about ‘fate’ upsets you?”_

“I hate when you talk about me…” Ichigo complained, shaking his head. “Especially in front of people.”

_“’People’?”_  Ulquiorra seemed humored. _“It’s only Grimmjow.”_

“Do you have many other friends?” Grimmjow asked, arching his brow in offense. “I’m ‘only Grimmjow’?”

“Stop it.” Ichigo snapped. “Is there anything you won’t argue about?”

“Are you talking to me or him?” Grimmjow asked, hitching his thumb toward his chest.

“I’m talking to both of you.” Ichigo returned, shoveling another handful of fish into his mouth.

Grimmjow frowned, turning his fingers accusingly toward Ichigo, “He started it.”

_“Just because I haven’t killed you doesn’t mean I won’t.”_

“I’ve still never seen anything else like the two of you.” Grimmjow admitted, shaking his head slowly. “And I’ve met a whole lot of shifters in my day.”

_“That’s because I’m smarter and more patient than the others.”_ Ulquiorra claimed.

“And I thought I was modest.” Grimmjow chuckled to himself. Grimmjow’s mouth twisted upward on one side. “Ya know,” Grimmjow began breathily. “If you’re gonna sit there and talk you should just come out. Whaddaya hidin’ for?”

_“I am_ not _hiding.”_

“Don’t agitate him.” Ichigo warned quietly.

“Do you have some sort of deformity?” Grimmjow wondered aloud. “A gimp leg? Or a hunch back? Something that causes you to want to crawl inside someone else and hide?”

“Grimmjow…” Ichigo hissed.

“I’m just asking some fucking questions, Ichi.” Grimmjow growled, staring at Ichigo, through Ichigo, to the Master. “It’s not like he’s sensitive and will take them personal…”

_“There’s not a single imperfection I possess.”_

“Delightful news.” Grimmjow shot back.

_“Your simple mind can rest easy.”_

“Awesome. Thanks.”

“Damn it! Can I just eat my dinner in silence?! Please? For a minute or two?” Ichigo blurted out in frustration. “A moment alone with my thoughts? I’m begging here…”

Grimmjow leaned forward, his hand slapping against Ichigo’s knee, “Oooh. You’re in trouble…”

“That’s it… I’m gonna kick you’re a-” Ichigo’s threat of violence trailed off, his lids growing heavy. He blinked slowly, with great effort to keep his eyes open at all. He lay down on the ground, his legs and arms sprawled out. Despite the roaring crash of waves it was impossible to stay awake.

_“Hey, Ichi!” Grimmjow called out, the sun illuminating his golden skin._

_Grimmjow stood on the white-sand beach, his head, neck, and chest adorned with elaborate decoration. Every gem glittered beautifully in its golden cradle against his skin. He reached out, bending at the waist, his hand offered to Ichigo. His fingers were laden with fine rings, heavy with brilliant sapphires and rubies._

_Ichigo looked at himself, sitting in the sand as if he’d fallen. He was confused but he didn’t hesitate to take Grimmjow’s proffered hand. He looked around the beach once on his feet._

_“Sorry, sorry. I know ya don’t like me usin’ it on ya.” Grimmjow breathed out._

_They were close. Close enough that Ichigo could see the prickled flesh spreading across Grimmjow’s damp skin. Ichigo felt drunk. He shook his heavy head, “Use what on me?”_

_“Love Cervere.” Grimmjow answered with a smile. His hands brushed against Ichigo’s skin and it sent a shiver down the younger shifter’s spine._

_“Oh.” Ichigo looked around again. “So that’s where we are…”_

_“I wanna talk to you alone…” Grimmjow answered. “Alone, alone.”_

_“Okay.” Ichigo nodded._

_“You might have a little trouble remembering everything when ya wake up,” Grimmjow explained. “But there’re some things I need to say…”_

_Ichigo frowned, “If it’s something terrible I don’t want to know.” Ichigo scanned the far-off cliffs, the torn fabric walls blowing through the ruined buildings. “I like it here. I’d rather just enjoy myself for a bit.”_

_Grimmjow laughed. “Alright, but I need to talk to you…” Grimmjow placed his warm, large hands on Ichigo’s shoulders, directing his attention back to himself. “I can’t keep you here forever.”_

_“Okay, then.” Ichigo agreed. “Speak your piece.”_

_“You’re in danger.”_

_Ichigo blinked in surprise, “Hmm?”_

_“You’re running out of time.” Grimmjow spoke quickly. “He’s gonna kill you.”_

_“What?” Ichigo scoffed. “How can you tell? Why do you think that? I’ve still got years left of my contract…”_

_“Look at yourself.” Grimmjow replied, looking Ichigo up and down pointedly._

_Ichigo did look. Nothing seemed particularly out of place. Grimmjow groaned, waving his hand in Ichigo’s face in frustration, “Never mind. You can’t see it here.”_

_“What’s wrong with me?” Ichigo demanded, feeling his stomach turn._

_Grimmjow licked his lips and shook his head, “We’ve been circling back. I’ve been leading you toward the Council but…” Grimmjow growled, his hands curling at his sides. “It won’t be long until he knows where we are and… and…”_

_“You’ve got a lot of faith in your Council.” Ichigo replied. “Why are you so certain they can even help?”_

_“They will.”_

_“How do you know?” Ichigo pressed._

_Grimmjow swallowed, “Because they have to.”_

_“If you don’t know what to do, why would they?”_

_“They’re smart.” Grimmjow explained heatedly. “You should hear some of the things they think of. They’re so fucking clever. They make these things you wouldn’t even believe…”_

_“Okay. So let’s pretend that the Council can help me,” Ichigo said. “Why are you so worried about it now? My hundred years aren’t up. We’re on our way to the Council. He has no idea what you’re hoping to do…”_

Grimmjow was quiet, his fingers trailing along the light stubble on his jaw. His jewels were gone, his clothes were less extravagant. The warm sun seemed to flip out of the sky, replaced by stars. He stood in front of Ichigo, looking down at him with wide blue eyes.

“What are you…?” Ichigo began unsurely.

Grimmjow kneeled in front of him, his hand placed on Ichigo’s chest. Ichigo looked down, stunned to discover that the stone was gone. A black stain smudged across his chest and stomach where the stone had been. He’d seen many dead bodies in his life and he couldn’t ignore the similarity.

The black, ink-like blemish rippled beneath Grimmjow’s touch and then began to pulse. With every beat of his heart the black mark throbbed, vibrating through his chest and deep within his veins.

Ichigo’s mouth fell open. He thought he might vomit but instead a horrified screech scratched from his throat. Grimmjow placed his other hand over Ichigo’s mouth, stifling the noise. Ichigo’s brown eyes widened before softening, nodding his head in understanding.

“How long?” Ichigo murmured, his own hand pressing against the blackness swirling over his skin.

“A few days now.” Grimmjow explained.

“I didn’t notice.” Ichigo admitted.

Grimmjow nodded knowingly, “I know.”

“Have you been doing something to me?” Ichigo asked. Grimmjow seemed reluctant to answer. He opened his mouth but no words came out. “Hey. Were you using it on me or not?”

“I was.”

“Why?”

Grimmjow hesitated again before replying, “I didn’t want him to know.”

“He’s gonna know.” Ichigo whispered, his hands wringing anxiously.

“I know.” Grimmjow agreed. “But we need more time.”

“It’s not just the two of us here.” Ichigo breathed out. “There is no time.”

“I know… I know…” Grimmjow muttered, bowing his head. He rubbed his hands through his hair in agitation. “But it’ll work out. I know it will.” Grimmjow placed his hand on Ichigo’s affectionately, “It’ll be okay, I l-” Grimmjow’s words died in his throat. Ulquiorra’s green eyes peered back at him, the flames of the bonfire reflecting like Hellfire in his gaze.

Grimmjow was silent, his hand against Ichigo’s awkwardly. And then Ichigo’s face split into a grin. He nodded slowly, his hand curling around Grimmjow’s. _“Of course.”_

* * *

 

“What time is it?” Ichigo gasped, throwing his arms out in panic. Grimmjow held Ichigo’s ankles together, dragging Ichigo from the tent and onto the sand. The bright light seared his eyes and he shouted in discomfort. “What the hell is going on?!”

“Sorry, Ichi.” Grimmjow sighed, pulling Ichigo further away from the tent. “It has to be done.”

“What does?” Ichigo demanded, trying to shield his eyes from the glaring sun.

“Wake up. We’re leaving.” Grimmjow announced, throwing his and Ichigo’s packs over his shoulders.

“Now?” Ichigo asked in bewilderment. “I just went to bed…” Ichigo floundered on the ground a bit before whining, “Help me up then.”

_“Too bright.”_

“Sorry, Master.” Ichigo murmured as Grimmjow pulled him to his feet.

_“Go inside.”_

“We can’t right now.” Ichigo said, exchanging a look with Grimmjow. “It’s not safe here.”

The Master roused, _“What?”_

“Go back to sleep.” Grimmjow barked. “I’ve got it under control.”

_“Oh, well, that’s settled then…”_

“Ah, you can be funny.” Grimmjow smirked in approval. “Color me impressed.”

“We don’t have time to argue,” Ichigo breathed out, glaring at Grimmjow. “We’ve got to get going.”

_“I don’t sense anything.”_ Ulquiorra mused _. “Are you sure there’s…”_

“What did you do?!” Ichigo snapped, clutching at his chest.

“Put ‘em to sleep.” Grimmjow replied, turning. He began his trek across the sand, walking slow for Ichigo to catch up.

“But it’s only gonna piss him off!” Ichigo groaned, standing in place.

“That’s why we need to hurry.” Grimmjow called over his shoulder. “I can only keep him under for so long.”

“Damn it, Grimmjow!” Ichigo shouted. “Why do you always make such a mess of things?”

“That’s you.” Grimmjow retorted, still walking away. “You’d better follow along. It only works well within so many yards.”

“We never agreed on attacking him!” Ichigo panicked.

Grimmjow finally stopped, looking over his shoulder at Ichigo. “You haven’t done anything. It’s all me. He’ll have no idea how long he was under. We have a small window of opportunity here.”

“He’ll kill you.” Ichigo breathed out.

Grimmjow shrugged, “Nah. I’ll be fine.”

“Grimmjow…” Ichigo whimpered.

“I owe you.” Grimmjow said as he continued to walk. “For last time.”

“But if we don’t make it before he wakes up, if we…”

Grimmjow cut Ichigo off, “We’ll make it! Now start fucking walking!”

“We’ll never make it walking.” Ichigo argued.

“For certain, we won’t make it just standing here.”

“No, I mean it.” Ichigo pressed.

“I’m not sure how long I can keep him under. If he were a human or a shifter it would be easy, but Masters are…” Grimmjow’s words were cut off as something heavy collided with his back. The force flung him forward but he was caught by his waist.

Ichigo was visible only a few seconds more before disappearing from view. Grimmjow cursed as he watched his own body slowly disappear from the feet up. “I’m faster.” Ichigo breathed out, his voice rumbling through him, his feet pounding against the sand. “You just focus on keepin’ him asleep.”

“Ichigo!” Grimmjow snarled, his hands clawing at Ichigo’s grip. “You can’t carry me like this!”

“Fine.” Ichigo said simply, not even bothering to slow down as he adjusted Grimmjow. Rather than set him down as Grimmjow had intended, Ichigo tossed him up, catching him and throwing him over his shoulder. “Better?”

Grimmjow was thankful to be invisible. He choked out a broken reply and swallowed his pride. Ichigo was right; they didn’t have time to dawdle. Even if Ichigo could run the entire way with Grimmjow over his shoulder, there may not be enough time. Everything was riding on keeping Ulquiorra under Love Cervere’s spell. And Grimmjow wasn’t sure he had that much power left in him.

“I’m old.” Grimmjow admitted quietly a few minutes later.

“Since when?” Ichigo breathed out, running seamlessly.

“If he wakes up, I’ll try to play it off, but if he gets pissed…”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Ichigo interrupted. “I’ll get us there.”

“But if I can’t keep him under…”

“Trust me.” Ichigo insisted. “I’m a totally useless shifter but I’m fast. I know I’m fast. I’ll get us there.”

“Okay.” Grimmjow conceded, closing his eyes. “Just make me promise.”

“Sure, what?”

“You can never fucking tell anyone ‘bout you carrying me over your shoulder like this.”

“Awwww…” Ichigo let out a laugh. “No one?”

“No one.” Grimmjow pressed. “Not a soul.”

Ichigo clicked his tongue in exaggerated disappointment, “Okay. I promise.”

* * *

 

“Hey…” Ichigo blinked uneasily. “Are you doing something?”

Ichigo slowed his pace, his fatigue catching up to him in an instant. He gasped in agony, the muscles tearing in his calves. He blew out loudly, his lips pressing together tightly when he inhaled. And then he couldn’t run another step. He bounced along the road to a jerking stop.

Grimmjow stirred slowly, as if he’d been asleep, and maybe he had. “I can’t see in front of me…” Ichigo complained, lowering Grimmjow to the ground. Grimmjow staggered slightly on his feet.

“Grimmjow!” Ichigo said loudly, when the older shifter didn’t respond. “I can’t see hardly anything! Is it you?”

“Sorry.” Grimmjow murmured, looking around in confusion.

“Are you doing something?” Ichigo repeated, rubbing his eyes in worry.

“Yeah, uh,” Grimmjow rubbed his face roughly. “My bad.”

“Everything’s foggy.” Ichigo explained, reaching out into the air and swiping his hand through the invisible mist. “And grey…”

Grimmjow reached out, grabbing Ichigo’s hand and pulling it down with his own. He squeezed Ichigo’s hand affectionately before turning, leading Ichigo as he walked.

“Wait…” Ichigo protested. “I’m exhausted. My legs are killing me.”

“We can’t wait.” Grimmjow refused, his hand tightening around Ichigo’s.

Something moved in the fog and Ichigo felt his stomach clench. “What was that?”

“It’s nothing.” Grimmjow assured him.

A few yards farther and Ichigo knew he saw the tail end of a hideous beast. He let out a breath of panicked air and tried to wrench free of Grimmjow’s grasp. He dug his heels into the ground, forcing himself to a halt. Grimmjow clicked his tongue in annoyance, “We have to keep going…”

“There’s something out there.” Ichigo insisted. “I saw it!”

Grimmjow yanked forcefully on Ichigo’s arm until they were walking again.  Grimmjow realized that if Ichigo had been at full strength it would’ve been impossible to move him. “It’s not real.”

“But-”

“It is not real, Ichigo!” Grimmjow shouted. “But we can’t stop. We have to keep walking!” The fog grew thicker. Ichigo’s skin crawled. There was a strange cackle to the right of them. Ichigo flinched and Grimmjow pulled him in more closely. “Grab me and don’t let go.”

“We’re going to get eaten.” Ichigo whispered.

Grimmjow shook his head, “No. It’s not real.”

“I don’t wanna see it anymore.” Ichigo snapped. “Stop! Let me out of it!”

“I can’t.” Grimmjow spat, furious at himself.

“Why not?” Ichigo demanded, holding onto Grimmjow desperately.

“I can’t fucking do it.” Grimmjow repeated harshly. “It’s taking everything I have to keep him under and I can’t separate the two of you anymore…” Grimmjow’s hand shook. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Ichigo said, with an understanding nod. He kept his hand held in Grimmjow’s, his eyes clenched shut tightly.

_‘Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki…’_

Ichigo swallowed. He fought the urge to open his eyes.

_‘Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki…’_

The noise grew closer.

_‘Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki…’_

Louder.

_‘Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki…’_

“I know you’re tired.” Grimmjow spoke softly.

_‘Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki…’_

“How far did we come? How far do we have to go?” Ichigo questioned.

_‘Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki…’_

It was as if the monster was breathing down his neck. He tore his hand from Grimmjow’s, his eyes shooting open. He spun in a circle, his clawed hands flying outward. He let out a panicked shriek, brushing his hands over his skin as if he’d been touched.

He was face to face with the creature. It was hunched over; its ugly, jackal-like face inches from Ichigo’s. Thick drool oozed from its jagged fangs. Its black eyes blinked slowly and it let out a terrifying roar.

Ichigo screamed and would have fled if not for Grimmjow locking him in his arms. He had nearly wrestled Ichigo to the ground before Ichigo stopped screaming. Grimmjow was speaking but Ichigo couldn’t hear it. His voice was far away, fading.

And then Ichigo couldn’t even see him anymore. He was suddenly alone, on the ground, surrounded by a forest of gnarled trees and fog. Ichigo scrambled along the ground in distress, “Grimmjow? Grimmjow!”

_‘Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki…’_


	23. Graveyard of Buried Hopes

** Part XXIII: Graveyard of Buried Hopes **

_"My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."  
_ — L.M. Montgomery, _Anne of Green Gables_

* * *

 

He was exhausted. How long had he been running? Where was he even running to? He didn’t know. Everything was grey and empty; until it wasn’t. He ran one direction only to be cut off by one of those strange beasts. They were neither animal nor man but had the undeniable features of both.

_‘Shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi…’_

He came to an abrupt stop. The sound was coming from the north; or was that west? He shook his head, running his hands through his hair. “Damn.”         

It had been ages since he’d last been frightened. It was almost unfathomable. He squat unceremoniously on the ground, digging into the earth with his short, uneven nails. He dug a hole, marking the spot; just in case…

_‘Murcielago…’_

He froze in panic, his eyes scanning the forest of twisted black trees.

Something large moved in the corner of his eye. He turned quickly, scrambling across the ground like an ape. “Who’s there?”

Damn, he hated the way he sounded. He rarely heard his own voice anymore.

_‘Shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi…’_

He stood up, his hands falling to his sides. He stepped toward the creature, screwing himself up as tall as he could muster. He glowered hatefully, raising a single finger in an accusatory gesture, “What are you? Why are you following me?”

The creature opened its mouth and let out a tremendous roar. It leaned down to his level, spraying him with spit and its foul breath. The roar shook the air, snapping several of the weak and dying branches around them. He could only stare with wide open eyes and a dumbfounded expression.

The creature raised its hand, larger than a shovel, and swung. He ducked down, narrowly missing the attack meant for his head. He let out a troubled hiss, his claws shooting out from the tips of his fingers. He turned; preparing to defend himself but the creature was already disappearing from view.

“No!” He shouted in frustration. “Stop playing games!”

_‘Shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi…’_

He’s heart pounded in his chest, nearly deafening over the sudden silence of the forest.

A branch snapped somewhere behind him and he spun around. The air crackled with a blood-curdling scream, a human scream. He knew that voice better than even his own. He stood perfectly still, watching something lumber through the forest. It flashed in and out of view, like a magic trick of the eye. But he knew it was his shifter. And he knew that the poor pitiful thing was frightened. But more than anything else, he was delighted he wasn’t alone.

“Ichigo.”

The shifter was startled and turned completely invisible. The corners of his mouth twitched indulgently. Something about watching someone else suffer made his own suffering even less. He approached the shifter, exposing himself in clear view. “It’s your Master.”

“Oh, God…” the shifter sighed heavily, reappearing. He looked around the bleak forest and swallowed down his nerves. His soft brown eyes met the Master’s and he asked, inexplicably, “Are you awake?”

“Awake?” Ulquiorra shook his head uncertainly. “Of course, I’m awake, why wouldn’t I…”

_‘Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki…’_

Neither of them spoke. That noise was different than before, Ulquiorra decided. And he felt his skin crawl. It was unfair. Nothing here was right. How dare he feel like this…

“Master,” Ichigo spoke quietly. He adjusted his footing and Ulquiorra wondered if he’d grown again. It was unusual, if not impossible, for a shifter to age. Ichigo cleared his throat, grabbing Ulquiorra’s wandering attention. “How long have you been here?”

There was no concept of time here. There was no sun or moon. It was neither day nor night. It was nothing but grey and dull and teaming with horrors. Ulquiorra shook his head, “I’m not sure.”

“It’s really, uh, you, right?” Ichigo asked nervously.

Ulquiorra felt a different sort of tingle across his skin; Ichigo feared him. Ulquiorra nodded once curtly. “Yes.”

“They can’t eat us right?” Ichigo asked.

Ulquiorra’s face turned downward into a frown, “No. Of course not.” And then for his own entertainment, “I mean, perhaps you, but not me…”

_‘Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki…’_

“We have to stop walking in circles.” Ulquiorra said simply as he started to walk.

_‘Shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi…’_

“Master…” Ichigo breathed out.

“What? Why aren’t you walking?” Ulquiorra demanded.

Ichigo didn’t have time to respond before Ulquiorra was knocked sideways. The force was incredible and he was sent flying against the branch of a tree. The dying tree cracked, splintering down the middle. Blood spurted from him, splashing everything within several yards.

Ichigo stood petrified in devastation. Blood streamed down his face, dripped from his arms. Sinew had splattered against his chest and flopped grotesquely down to his knees. He couldn’t move a muscle as the terrible creature closing in on him let out a frenzied roar.

* * *

“Is someone there?” Grimmjow breathed out anxiously. He leaned over Ichigo’s writhing body, tying the younger shifter’s hands behind his back tightly. He looked around unsurely, feeling a strange prickle of energy in the air.

“Don’t panic. It’s me.”

“Who the fuck is ‘me’?” Grimmjow snapped, his head shooting upward. He peered in the direction of the sound; feeling so anxious he thought he might vomit.

“It’s Komamura.” The Master explained, raising his hands peaceably as he came into view. “Remember me?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t see you… and nobody should fucking be out here and…” Grimmjow ranted in frustration before trailing off. “Damn it! Everything is so fucked up.”

“You’re heading toward the Council, right?” Komamura asked, kneeling beside Ichigo and helping Grimmjow restrain him. The young shifter whined in his sleep, trembling so violently his teeth chattered.

“If you’re here, I must be close.” Grimmjow breathed out. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it up. Ulquiorra is under Love Cervere but I… I just can’t…” Grimmjow covered his face with his hands.

“Things are different now…” Komamura began slowly. “I’m not sure if the Council is where you want to go…”

“Whad’ya mean?” Grimmjow asked, his brows furrowed.

Komamura was silent for a moment before hoisting Ichigo into his arms. He carried the bound shifter, walking slowly, waiting for Grimmjow to catch up. Grimmjow pushed himself to his feet, swaying from exhaustion, “I’ll carry ‘im.”

“Let me.” Komamura insisted. “I’m not a strong Master but I can manage this much.”

“Don’t get too far ahead…” Grimmjow explained, limping after Komamura. “I’m tired and my range sucks right now.”

“How long has he been fighting you like this?” Komamura asked, looking down at Ichigo with an enigmatic expression.

“Five hundred miles or so?” Grimmjow recalled unsurely.

“That’s tough.” Komamura breathed out.

Grimmjow laughed harshly, “Yeah. A bit.”

“You’ve been gone for a while,” Komamura began again, sparing Grimmjow a rapid glance. “The Council’s changed.”

“Changed?” Grimmjow asked, finally catching up to Komamura’s pace. “How so?”

Komamura chose his words carefully, “There have been losses, hard ones. And the Council became more strict because of it…”

“Strict? How so?” Grimmjow asked, almost too tired to care about what Komamura was saying.

“I don’t know if they’ll help him.” Komamura admitted, his fingers tightening over the wriggling shifter in his arms.

“Why the fuck not?” Grimmjow demanded.

“Possessions are fatal.” Komamura replied softly.

“Not this time. Not this one.”  Grimmjow snapped. “This is different. They’ve shared a body since day one…”

“I’m not saying I won’t help,” Komamura spoke over Grimmjow. “I’m saying the Council isn’t how you remember it. I don’t think you should go there.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to take him then?!” Grimmjow shouted. “He’s dying!”

“I’ve been trying to save him since I met him.” Komamura barked impatiently. “Now shut up and listen to me!”

“Damn. Sorry. Go ahead.”

“There’re only three people who can save him now.” Komamura said. “And one of them is missing.”

“And the others?”

“The Warden and the Dragon.”

* * *

“Master!” Ichigo shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth. He searched his surroundings, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“Shhhhh!” Ulquiorra hissed, stepping out from behind a tree. “You’re making too much noise. They’ll hear you.”

“I just revived… what happened?” Ichigo blurted fearfully, reaching for his Master’s hand. “You looked dead and then it came after me and then… and then I was standing here and…”

“Give it a minute,” Ulquiorra breathed out, running his hand over the fresh, pink skin at Ichigo’s throat. “That feeling will pass in a moment…”

“What feeli-?” Ichigo’s words died in his throat. He doubled over, emptying his stomach contents onto the dead, barren ground.

“That one.” Ulquiorra answered dryly. “I don’t think we’ve moved. I think we revived in place. But obviously those things are gone.” Ulquiorra scratched at the skin of the inside of his elbow. His nails left bright red marks across his chalky white skin. “And before you ask, no I don’t know what’s going on.”

The confusion dissipated and Ichigo breathed out in relief. He might be terrified; he might suffer, but unless he was entirely mistaken, it was all imaginary. As he watched his Master, stranded and disordered, he almost told him the truth. Almost.

“Don’t just stand there like an idiot!” Ulquiorra snapped. “We need to seek shelter.”

“This forest doesn’t end.” Ichigo murmured.

“Everything has an end.” Ulquiorra retorted, his head twitching every which way as he walked.

“What were those things?” Ichigo asked, though he supposed it didn’t actually matter.

“They looked like…” but the Master trailed off, his eyes glazing over.

“What is it?” Ichigo whispered anxiously, scanning the trees.

“Almost like they’re…” Ulquiorra muttered to himself. He paused, his head tilted toward the sky. He twirled in a slow, purposeful circle. “I’ve been here before.”

_‘Murcielago…’_

Ulquiorra jumped. He looked around, his green eyes startled and wide. “Who?”

“Master?”

“What?!” Ulquiorra nearly shouted from the stress. He brushed his hands through his black hair and he groaned loudly. He took a deep breath and turned toward Ichigo, “I heard someone say my name.”

“Oh.”

“Didn’t you hear it? Which way did it come from?” Ulquiorra demanded.

Ichigo licked his lips, “No, Master. I didn’t hear it.”

“What?”

“I didn’t hear anyone say anything besides you.”

“You lie.” Ulquiorra accused.

Ichigo shook his head emphatically, “I’m not lying. I heard nothing. I swear it.”

Ulquiorra cursed in an ancient language that Ichigo couldn’t understand. It made the hairs on his arms rise. It’d been a century since he last heard that dark language. Ichigo took a step back from his Master just as Ulquiorra turned around to face him. “Have you been here before?”

“I… I don’t know… I don’t think so…” Ichigo murmured noncommittally.

“It seems familiar.” Ulquiorra revealed, chewing on his nails. “And those creatures, they’re just like…”

_‘Shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi…’_

“Come on.” Ichigo breathed out, gesturing his Master to follow. “Let’s get a move on.”

* * *

“Sorry we have to walk.” Komamura said, smiling sheepishly. “I’m not strong enough to make a portal. At least not one that you could pass through too.”

“A portal? What are you talking about?” Grimmjow questioned curiously.

Komamura shrugged, “A portal. A doorway, from one place to another. Masters can make them. That’s how we travel so quickly. But it takes a lot of dark matter. And I don’t have that sort of power.”

“Oh, well,” Grimmjow groaned, his hands rubbing his sore back as he walked. “A portal would be damn nice right now.”

“The others are strong. The strongest of our kind. Don’t worry; they’ll be able to help.” Komamura gushed, almost proudly. “And they can make a hundred portals at once if they need to.”

“Are we close?” Grimmjow asked, a strange burning sensation spreading through his chest. He rubbed his chest unsurely, trying to ignore the discomfort.

“Half a day. Maybe.” Komamura answered.

Grimmjow cursed loudly. He’s pace dropped, his feet stumbling over one another. “I don’t think I can make it.”

“You have to try.”

“I am fuckin’ tryin’.” Grimmjow groaned, casting Komamura a dirty look.

“I know.”

Grimmjow sped up as much as possible. He gave Komamura a hard, long sideways glance. “Why are ya goin’ to so much trouble to help him?”

“Why are you?” Komamura replied, a strange curve twisting up the corners of his mouth.

“You first.” Grimmjow barked.

“Well,” Komamura inhaled deeply before continuing. “It’s the Creator’s wish.”

“The ‘Creator’? Like? Who are we talking about?” Grimmjow scoffed. “I’m old enough to have been around for the start of almost all of these religions… I ain’t buying any of them.”

“It’s not like that.” Komamura shook his head slowly. “He was there for the start of it all.”

“Okay.” Grimmjow snorted unappreciatively. “And this ‘Creator’ told you to save Ichigo?”

“He didn’t tell me to do anything. He asked.” Komamura corrected, his lips pursed together in displeasure.

“Okay. So he asked you to save Ichigo?” Grimmjow shrugged skeptically. “But why?”

Komamura was silent for a long stretch of time before responding. “The same reason you’re trying so hard to save him.”

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?” Grimmjow asked, smirking crookedly.

“Because you love him.” Komamura said simply.

“Wait a damn minute!” Grimmjow barked. “Who the hell’s this guy? And when did he meet Ichigo? Y-y-you can’t just go sayin’ crazy stuff now…”

“They haven’t met. Yet.” Komamura explained. “But the Creator knows him because he’s a shifter.”

“And he loves him.” Grimmjow said, his eyes cut skeptically.

“Yes.”

“Riiiiiight.”

“I don’t care if you believe me.” Komamura laughed. “I was shown a hundred thousand possible futures. And I prefer the ones where Ichigo lives. That’s why I’m here. Because my kind is hurting his kind. Because I want to stop that before they’re wiped out.”

“Humans or shifters?” Grimmjow asked.

“Both.” Komamura replied. “Humans should be left in peace and shifters should have never existed.”

“But we’re here now.” Grimmjow interjected bitterly.

“Yes.” Komamura nodded. “And it’s regrettable. It’s not what the Creator intended at all.”

“So where is this Creator? Can’t he save Ichigo?” Grimmjow pressed. He couldn’t logically explain why, but this mysterious answer had pissed him off. “Can he come make a portal? I’m really fuckin’ tired of walking…”

Komamura was insulted. Real or not, this Creator was something very important to the Master. He narrowed his eyes, his canines strained against his lips. “You have no idea how ridiculous you sound…”

“No, but I’d guess it’s pretty close to how stupid you sound, so it’s okay.”

Komamura, enraged, transformed even further. He hardly resembled a human anymore. He held Ichigo tightly to his chest and leered at Grimmjow. He shook his head, as if dismissing the conversation. When he spoke it was gruff and inhuman, “Save your energy. Walk.”

* * *

_‘Shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi…’_

They held their breaths, their hands unbelievably clasped together.

_‘Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki…’_

“Master…” Ichigo whispered.

“Hm?” the Master breathed out, his frightened green eyes meeting Ichigo’s.

“It’ll be okay.”

_‘Shi-ki-shi-ki-shi-ki-shiki-shiki-shiki-shiki…’_

When Ulquiorra spoke his breath unfurled in the air, “How’s that? I can’t do anything. My power… it’s…”

_‘Shi-ki-shi-ki-shi-ki-shiki-shiki-shiki-shiki-shiki-shiki-shiki…’_

“Damn it!” Ichigo exhaled, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “How are _you_ scared?”

Ulquiorra didn’t refute the statement. He pulled Ichigo’s hand onto his lap and stroked it absently. “I can’t do anything. That thing! They’ll find us again and kill us all over again… And I can’t do a fucking thing about it!”

“It’s okay.” Ichigo repeated, captivated by the pallid hand that incessantly rubbed his own.

“I can’t go through this again! It’s like I’m a damn child!” Ulquiorra prattled, petting Ichigo petulantly.

_‘Shi-ki-shi-ki-shi-ki-shiki-shiki-shiki-shiki-ki-shi-shi-shi-ki…’_

“What do you mean?” Ichigo asked, his back pressing painfully against the dead roots of the rotting tree providing them cover.

Ulquiorra swallowed. He began to tear at the nails of his free hand, chewing them down low enough to bleed. “When we were younger… before the war…”

_‘Shi-ki-shi-ki-shi-ki-shiki-shiki-shiki-shiki…’_

“Shit!” Ulquiorra panicked. “Was that closer?”

“Master, calm down.” Ichigo pleaded, doing his best to keep Ulquiorra in place beside him. “Stay down.”

“I can’t stay here. They’re going to find us…” Ulquiorra nearly shouted. He released his hold of Ichigo and scrambled to his feet. He looked wild as he scratched and clawed his way out of the hideaway. “We have to run!”

“No!” Ichigo hissed. “Shut up! Stop yelling! You’re being too loud. Come back!”

Ichigo covered his mouth, holding his breath as Ulquiorra’s body was launched into the air. The foul creature shredded him to pieces, splattering his corpse throughout the trees. The crimson was so startling against the whiteness of the forest. The creature screamed in triumph, the second one coming up to inspect the damage. Ichigo remained hidden, not even daring to breathe until the monsters moved on.

There was no way to tell time here. It seemed like an eternity later before Ulquiorra’s voice rang out, “Ichigo? Ichigo!”

“Here, Master!” Ichigo breathed out, climbing out of his hiding spot to collect his Master. “Come with me. I’ve found a good spot to rest…” It took a few minutes after reviving before he could remember what had happened. Once he had he grew antsy again.

“We can’t stay here.” Ulquiorra breathed. “We need to get out of this forest.”

“We can’t.” Ichigo insisted.

Ulquiorra turned to Ichigo, his green eyes wide and pleading. “You don’t understand. Those things out there…” Ulquiorra looked around in a panic. “They’re dangerous.”

“Yes. I know.” Ichigo nodded his head, graciously patient. “That’s why we need to stay hidden until they leave.”

“They won’t leave…” Ulquiorra shook his head, his body making strange, jerking movements. “Before… when I saw them before…” Ichigo perked up, watching Ulquiorra with growing interest. “One of those things took out Hyorinmaru…”

“Who?” Ichigo pressed, shaking his head in confusion.

“Hyorinmaru!” Ulquiorra snapped. “One of our strongest!” Ulquiorra muttered deliriously under his breath before speaking again to Ichigo, “It took both Katen and Nozarashi to kill them… And now they’re back…”

“You’ve seen these things before?” Ichigo asked. He wasn’t sure how Love Cervere worked but he was beyond intrigued.

“I told you!” Ulquiorra snapped. “Before the war, when we were just children…”

“Those things killed your friend?”

“Hyorinmaru is not my friend.”

Ichigo clicked his tongue in agitation, “Master…”

“They were the Xibalbans before us. Before humans.” Ulquiorra breathed out. “They were made from the beasts that roamed the Earth before man.”

Ichigo was hopelessly lost in the conversation. He thought that perhaps he had heard the word Xibalban before. When? From Master? He shook his head slowly, unable to make sense of Ulquiorra’s terrified prattle. “Just stay calm.”

“Fuck you.” Ulquiorra barked, scratching his inner elbow until the skin bled.

Ichigo was silent.

_‘Shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi…’_

“We thought we killed them all.” Ulquiorra breathed out.

“How did you kill them?” Ichigo asked, hoping to redirect the conversation.

“I didn’t.” Ulquiorra said simply. “Katen and Nozarashi did. Turned them to stone and burned them to ash…” Ulquiorra let out a peculiar snort, almost like a bitter laugh. “But even if I had my powers, I couldn’t do that.”

_‘Shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi…’_

“Is this the place you saw them?” Ichigo asked quietly, trying to keep his Master from exposing the two of them.

Ulquiorra shook his head, “It’s been so long, I don’t remember. But I feel like I’ve been here.”

Ichigo considered this information. This horrid, terrible place was created with the same power that sent him to paradise. It was almost unfathomable. At some point in Ulquiorra’s life he had been a scared little boy, running for his life in this forest. And centuries later, Grimmjow was able to recreate everything simply to torment him.

“I… I can’t…” Ulquiorra repeated for the thousandth time. His entire body quivered as he reached again for Ichigo’s hand. “We’re going to die…”

_‘Shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi…’_

“I’m sorry.”

Ichigo’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard the Master say. Ichigo’s skin prickled. “Pardon?”

“I’m sorry.” Ulquiorra repeated, clinging to Ichigo’s arm.

“For what?” Ichigo asked, his voice tight and harsh.

“Everything.” Ulquiorra murmured, burying his face into Ichigo’s arm. He pressed his mouth against Ichigo’s skin, planting desperate kisses. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand.” And he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Ulquiorra’s head was bowed, his bent knees above his head as he crouched. He pressed slow, purposeful kisses against Ichigo’s peach colored skin. “Everything I did was for nothing. We’ll both die here. For no reason at all.” Ulquiorra quietly shook. “I just wanted to be alive again.”

“It’ll be okay.” Ichigo said softly. He reached out and touched the Master, stroking his hair gently.

“You should run.” Ulquiorra said unexpectedly, sitting up. He looked at Ichigo with a somber expression. “You’re fast. You’ll make it.”

“I… I don’t think it’ll work…” Ichigo explained. “This forest never ends. It’s one big loop.”

_‘Shi-shi-shi-shi-shi-shi…’_

“It’s a waste.” Ulquiorra said, sighing in resignation.

“What is?”

Ulquiorra responded with, “You dying here.”

“Master,” Ichigo began unsurely. “It _will_ be okay… I promise. We’re not going to die…”

“Your optimism is going to make me ill.” Ulquiorra grumbled.

“This isn’t real.” Ichigo blurted before he could stop himself. “It’s all in our head.”

Ulquiorra’s face changed. His frightened, waxy expression dissolved into his emotional mask. His eyes sparkled, the cogs turning. “ _That_ thing.”

“Uh…”

Ulquiorra stood. His entire body surged with silent rage. “ _I will kill that shifter_.”

“Wait a minute…” Ichigo moved to stand. “Just be calm.”

_‘Shi-ki-shi-ki-shi-ki-shiki-shiki-shiki-shiki…’_

**“I am calm.”**

Komamura struggled to keep Ichigo in his arms. The young shifter’s eyes opened, bright green and furious. He flexed, snapping the ropes off of himself. Komamura cursed, throwing Ichigo away from him. “He’s awake!”

“What the hell?! Ichi!” Grimmjow shouted before realizing that it was the Master who’d been thrown through the air. Grimmjow groaned quietly before dropping to his knees. He couldn’t move another step.

“Grimmjow!” Ichigo shouted. “Run!”

Ichigo’s body lurched forward and Komamura moved to block Grimmjow from Ulquiorra’s view. “Leave him alone, Murcielago!”

_“I will kill you this time. Both of you.”_

“Grimmjow! Move!” Ichigo pleaded.

Grimmjow laughed breathily. “Couldn’t if I wanted to, love.”

“This is bad.” Komamura groaned, thick fur covering every inch of his skin.

Komamura threw his hand down on the ground in front of himself. He yelled, as if agonized. A bright silver light sparked to life. The metallic color swirled, round and round; faster and faster until the earth inside the circle seemed to glow blue.

“Sorry.” Komamura breathed, giving Grimmjow an apologetic smile.

_“You’re running away? Cute.”_ Ulquiorra growled. _“But I won’t let you.”_

“It’s not for me.” Komamura barked, grabbing Grimmjow by the scruff of his neck. Grimmjow caught only a momentary glimpse of surprise on Ichigo’s face before he was thrown into the portal. “It’s for him.”

“Grimmjow!” Ichigo cried out, lunging forward.

“It’s fine. Let him go.” Komamura snapped.

_“Damn.”_ Ulquiorra sighed. _“He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t explode in your portal.”_

“He’ll be fine.” Komamura assured Ichigo.

_“You’ve separated me from my prey.”_ Ulquiorra rasped, clenching Ichigo’s fist. _“You’ll be taking his place.”_


	24. The Thing I Was

** Part XXIV: The Thing I Was **

_"Presume not that I am the thing I was."_    
— William Shakespeare,  _Henry IV, Part 2_

* * *

_“Murcielago, it’s okay…”_

_“I want to stay here.” The child insisted, pressing further into the stone._

_“Just come out okay?”  The other child pleaded, his large, turquoise eyes glowing in the dying light._

_“Just hurry up! I’m tired of standing around.” Another barked, his green eyes sharp and narrow. “We should just start walking… he’ll follow eventually…”_

_“Murcielago,” the oldest boy repeated. “It’s okay.” The child offered his hand to the younger, his tanned skin a stark contrast to Murcielago’s chalky, white skin. “Come on out…”_

_Murcielago obeyed. He let the older boy pull him from his hiding spot and out into the open. The sun was setting and the sky was a cool purple shade. Murcielago looked around, a few stars shining above him._

_“That’s better.” The oldest boy smiled, his grey eyes nearly melting the fear and anger Murcielago had left. “Aren’t you hungry? I know I am. We won’t go without you…”_

_“Well, I will…” the green eyed boy barked, running his hands through his black hair._

_“Ignore Nozarashi.” The older boy continued. He turned toward the other boy pointedly and flashed a charming smile. “He only talks tough.”_

_“I don’t care.” Murcielago breathed out. “Let him talk. It doesn’t matter…” Murcielago breathed in shallowly, speaking rapidly. “I don’t care if they like me. I don’t. It doesn’t matter.”_

_“Oy, oy,” the older boy sighed, his hand resting on Murcielago’s slender shoulder. “No one here dislikes you. We’re a family, remember?”_

_Murcielago made a face, “My family is dead.”_

_The older boy frowned, his brow pinched together with worry. He opened his mouth to speak then seemed to reconsider. He eventually smiled sadly, a burst of air escaping his lips. “Not anymore. We’re your family now.”_

_“That thing isn’t even human!” Murcielago blurted out, pointing toward the wolfish boy in contempt. “How can we be a family?”_

_“You’re not human.” Nozarashi snapped impatiently. “Not anymore. None of us are.”_

_“What am I then?” Murcielago demanded._

_“You’re a Xibalban. Like us.”_

_“Save it Katen.” Another boy murmured, his voice like honey despite his harsh words. “The weak will always be weak. The fear cripples them.” He placed his arm on Katen’s shoulder, leaning on him. He looked Murcielago up and down. “You’re mad that you got left behind with Tenken. Right?”_

_Murcielago’s lips pressed together in anger but he nodded. “Why should I have to hide with him?”_

_The boy smiled handsomely, “Because you’re ugly too.”_

_“Kyoka!” Katen hissed, smacking the other boy roughly, shoving him off of him. “You’re such an ass.”_

_“Kyoka spoke harshly.” The turquoise-eyed boy said, scratching his cheek with a skinny finger. “But he has a point. You don’t look like a human. Neither does Tenken. It’s too dangerous.”_

_“But I don’t have any fur on me!” Murcielago cried out, his small, youthful hands curling into fists._

_“Your skin is gross. You look like a corpse that’s been floating too long in the water.” Kyoka Suigetsu continued, his dimples cutting across his cheeks. “The humans would kill you first, probably-”_

_“No!” Murcielago shouted, pushing the much larger Kyoka roughly. The older boy barely moved, but the smile quickly faded from his face. He raised his hand to strike but Nozarashi stepped in-between the two boys. “It’s Tenken’s fault! He’ll die first! The humans always notice him first!”_

_“Stop!” Tenken cried out, rubbing his eyes with clawed hands. His sobs shook his shoulders. His face was flushed with ashamed color, all the way to the pointed tips of his fox-like ears. “I’m sorry.”_

_“It’s no one’s fault!” the turquoise-eyed boy shouted, tearing at his white hair in exasperation. “It’s just the way it is!” He took a deep breath and calmed. “It’s no one’s fault. It’s not a punishment. You’re just safer if we hide you during the day.”_

_“We don’t need safer.” Kyoka breathed out, turning his back on the others. “We need stronger.”_

_“You were new once too.” The white-haired boy reasoned. “It takes some adjustment.”_

_“I was never so useless.” Kyoka said simply._

_“I’m fucking starving to death.” Nozarashi barked. “Can we all agree it’s time to eat?” Nozarashi nodded toward Katen and the white-haired boy. “Is that okay with you two?”_

_“I’ll wait here with Murcielago.” Katen offered. “You guys go ahead.”_

_“I’ll go.” Murcielago snapped, walking around Katen and toward the road. “I’m not a weakling. And I’m not afraid.”_

_“You should be nicer.” The white-haired boy insisted, nudging Kyoka’s shoulder._

_“That’s your job, Hyorinmaru.” Kyoka said with a smile, ruffling his hand through the small boy’s hair. “I haven’t the patience for such bullshit.” Kyoka followed behind Nozarashi, walking backward. “Besides, pain is good for children. It builds character.”_

_“Well, we should all be shining examples of character then.” The silver haired boy drawled, smiling at Hyorinmaru with narrow, slanted eyes._

_Hyorinmaru shook his head and sighed, “I didn’t realize you were waiting on me, Shinso.”_

_Shinso’s smile never faltered, “I wasn’t waiting for you. I was just being nosey.”_

_“Ah, well,” Hyorinmaru shrugged. He gestured Tenken forward. “Come on. Before Katen and Nozarashi eat everything.”_

* * *

_“You’re so stupid. You’ve always been stupid. Stupid and weak!”_ Ulquiorra snarled.

Komamura nodded, as if in agreement. He licked his black lips with a black stained canine tongue. He couldn’t control his transformation. He tried to speak but it was gravelly and raw, incomprehensible.

_“It’s embarrassing… that you’re one of us…”_ Ulquiorra sneered. _“You’re worse than the shifters.”_

Komamura made a motion, his clawed fists banging against his muscular, broad chest. He pounded his chest, again and again, an intimidating guttural roar escaping his lips. Spit flew from his mouth, his amber, wolfish eyes watered. He beat his chest with his fists, his scream continuing until he was out of breath.

_“I can’t afford you damaging this body.”_ Ulquiorra decided, stepping from Ichigo like a reflection on water. “I’ll fight you myself.”

“Go.” Komamura gasped, his legs snapping and reforming.

“Hmm?” Ulquiorra murmured, stepping toward Komamura. “What was that?”

“Noth-in…” Komamura growled, blood dripping down his fur covered legs. “Not talk..ing… to…y-ou…”

Ulquiorra stood there, watching Komamura’s agonized transformation with interest. And then he realized. He spun around with a hiss, his hands outstretched. But it was too late. Ichigo was already running. His beautiful, strong legs pounded the earth, taking him farther and farther from his Master.

“You’ll regret this.” Ulquiorra said slowly, turning to face the other Master. “You’ll regret everything. You’ll regret every single thing you’ve done to me.”

“I… haven..t… done…shit…t’y-ou…” Komamura snarled.

Ulquiorra scoffed, “Your existence is insulting.”

* * *

_“Want some?” Tenken asked, offering a piece of sweet bread to Murcielago._

_Murcielago’s mouth watered. He moved closer, inspecting the bread with childish delight. “I-”_

_“Careful.” Kyoka interjected. “Or you’ll eat dog hair and turn into a dog like Tenken.”_

_Murcielago’s green eyes narrowed slowly. He shook his head, turning his nose into the air. “No.”_

_“Don’t listen to him.” Tenken breathed out, offering the bread once more. “It’s so good.”_

_“I said no!” Murcielago snapped, slapping the bread from Tenken’s hand. The food rolled across the ground, landing in an ant hill. “Stupid dog!”_

_“You’re such a prick, Kyoka.” The blonde beside him chastised, pushing against the older boy with both legs. Kyoka only smiled, letting the blonde continue his assault. He leaned back, his hand stroking the blonde’s leg. The blonde blushed and turned, removing his legs from Kyoka’s reach. “Ewww. Don’t.”_

_“Then don’t put them on me, Wabisuke.”_

_“Don’t learn bad habits from Kyoka.” Wabisuke breathed, tapping Murcielago on the shoulder. “He’s terrible.”_

_“Don’t be mean.” Katen said dryly, sitting up and scratching his head._

_“If that’s all you’re gonna say, stay asleep.” Hyorinmaru complained, waving Katen away._

_“Here.” Nozarashi said, kneeling beside Tenken. “Take mine. I don’t like sweet shit.”_

_“You should apologize,” Hyorinmaru instructed, eyeing Murcielago expectantly._

_“He ain’t gonna apologize.” Shinso mused, smiling widely._

_“I won’t.” Murcielago snapped._

_“Told ya.” Shinso chimed._

_“Why should I have to? I said I didn’t want it, didn’t I?” Murcielago stood, glaring at Tenken hatefully. “Why do you have to bother me?”_

_“I was trying to be nice.” Tenken replied, shaking his head._

_“Well, don’t.” Murcielago replied. “It’s gross. I don’t like it. And I don’t like you.”_

_“Katen?” Nozarashi drawled, his voice becoming deeper by the day. “Mind if I just hit ‘im? Just one good hit. Just to put things in perspective…”_

_“He’s little.” Katen replied, waving his hand dismissively._

_“Hyorinmaru?” Nozarashi breathed, locking eyes with the tiny Master._

_“If you spank him, I’ll spank Kyoka.” Hyorinmaru suggested, his lips held tight._

_“Deal.” Nozarashi replied with a smile. He reached out, his fist bumping against Hyorinmaru’s. “But pro’lly should be th’other way ‘round.”_

* * *

 

Grimmjow gasped. He rolled along the ground, his skin burning. He tumbled over the grass, using the dirt to soothe the acidic gnawing of his flesh. He took another breath, stopping to rest face down on the dust. He knew time was a luxury he didn’t have. He cursed loudly, pressing up on his palms.

He stood on shaking legs and looked around. He wasn’t far from the Council now. He nodded to himself, licking his lips as he strode onward. His body still burned terribly but he ignored it. The only thing he cared about now was getting help for Ichigo.

“Stop! Who goes there?”

“Huh?” Grimmjow’s face twisted into a defensive snarl. He looked the other shifter up and down. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’ll ask the questions.” The shifter replied. “If you don’t mind.”

“I do mind.” Grimmjow snapped. “Get the fuck outta my way; I’m in a damn hurry.”

“The Council doesn’t receive unannounced visitors.” The shifter explained impatiently.

“The Council doesn’t what now?” Grimmjow barked. He narrowed his eyes, his teeth peeking out from his lips. “You tell ‘em Grimmjow wants to see ‘em. And then go fuck yourself.”

“Where’re you going?” the shifter demanded, following after Grimmjow uneasily.

“I told ya. I don’t have time. I need to get to the Council.” Grimmjow explained, trekking onward.

“I can send word.” The shifter suggested. “But you won’t be allowed in until they give their permission.”

“Permission?!” Grimmjow rounded on the shifter. He raised his hand as if to strike the other man but instead grabbed him by the collar of the shirt. “Listen to me. This’s an emergency. Tell whoever. Do whatever you need to do. But the second I get to the Council, I’m going in. Hear me?”

“Y-yeah…” the shifter breathed out.

“Good boy. Now run along.” Grimmjow drawled, patting the young shifter on the head and releasing him.

* * *

 

_“Ah, perfect timing Tenken!” Katen whooped, patting the young Master on the back. “I am so hungry I could eat an elephant.”_

_“What’s an elephant?” Tenken asked, handing his fresh kill to Nozarashi, the best of them at gutting animals._

_“A big, fat thing that chases people.” Shinso answered, poking his fingers into Tenken’s soft middle.  “And tries to skewer them on their big, white sabres.”_

_“That’s because you got too close to her baby.” Hyorinmaru explained, eyeing Shinso. “And they’re called tusks.”_

_“Anyone else catch anything?” Nozarashi called out, blood splurted across his chest. He was growing large, fast. “I’d rather gut ‘em all at once.”_

_“I’ve got some deer thing.” Kyoka replied. “I left it under that tree.”_

_“Well, go get it.” Nozarashi shouted, shaking his head._

_“No.” Kyoka returned, turning his back on the other. “You do it.”_

_“Fuck I will.” Nozarashi grunted, standing up at his full height._

_“Katen.”_

_He hated that he craved the attention._

_“What did you find, Murcielago?” Katen asked, leaning in to examine the object the young boy held in his hands._

_Murcielago’s heart pounded in his ears as he lifted his hands, cradling the bloodied  thing in his white palms. Katen didn’t smile however. His handsome face fell and his brows pinched together. He looked around before covering Murcielago’s small, snowy hands with his own. “We can’t eat this, Murcielago.”_

_“Why not?” the child asked, his eyes wide and shiny._

_Katen finally managed a smile. He took the thing from Murcielago’s grasp and shook his head. “It’s been dead too long.”_

_“No.” Murcielago argued, feeling Katen’s love and attention and favor slipping away… “I just killed it! Not long ago!”_

_Katen’s weak smile completely faded. He clicked his tongue, using his shirt to cover the bloodied thing, blocking it from view. “You killed this?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Where?” Katen demanded._

_“There’s a village beneath the cliff…”_

_“We need to leave!” Katen shouted, grabbing Murcielago by the hand._

_“What?” Hyorinmaru asked, looking toward Katen in surprise._

_“I just fucking started!” Nozarashi complained, waving a bit of animal flesh above his head._

_“No! We need to go now!” Katen instructed, shoving Murcielago toward Hyorinmaru. “You take the little ones. Nozarashi, watch the others. I have to return this.”_

_“What?” Hyorinmaru asked, looking Katen up and down._

_“Uh oh.” Shinso drawled. “Did our little moonflower do something bad?”_

_Murcielago stood there, blood soaking his milky white skin and into his clothes. He made a face, his jaw setting hard. “I hunted. Just like everyone else.”_

_“Did you hunt in the village?” Kyoka asked, sharing a look with Shinso._

_“Go!” Katen yelled. “I’ll catch up.”_

_“Wait a minute!” Hyorinmaru called out, chasing after Katen._

_“Great job, little beastie.” Shinso sighed.  “Now we’re missing dinner.”_

_“Now the villagers will be after us and hunt us down. We’ll scream and say that you did it. And they’ll see you and know you’re a monster…” Kyoka continued, his brown eyes sparkling with delight._

_“Leave him alone.” Tenken said firmly._

_“Or what?” Kyoka challenged._

_“Or I’ll tell.” Tenken finished._

_“I’m terrified.” Kyoka breathed out, leaning down, face to face with Tenken._

_“You should be.” Tenken said, rolling his eyes._

_Shinso tugged on Tenken’s sandy blonde hair, “Come on. We need to hurry. Or we’ll really be in trouble with Katen.”_

_“I’m really pissed off.” Nozarashi groaned, shoving his short blade back into his belt._

_Hyorinmaru returned, grabbing Tenken and Murcielago’s hands as he passed them. They were two of the youngest but they still towered over the older Master. He pulled them after him roughly, walking fast. He nodded toward Nozarashi, relaying as much as he could without words. “Faster.”_

_Nozarashi nodded, packing up as much meat as he could carry. “I’m comin’.”_

_“You guys too. I’m serious.” Hyorinmaru called over his shoulder to the older children. “We need to move.”_

_“Damn it, Murcielago.” Kyoka complained. “What did you do?”_

_Murcielago didn’t answer but he couldn’t help but think that he’d done nothing that Tenken didn’t do. Yet Tenken had been praised for his kill. And now they were on the run again, with no dinner in their bellies. Katen had even taken the thing back to the village. It was such a waste. Not even Katen could bring that baby back to life now._

* * *

 

“You thought you were better than me.” Ulquiorra accused. “That’s laughable.”

Komamura shook his head. He beat his chest again, urging Ulquiorra to make a move.

“You’re a disgusting, weak little dog.” Ulquiorra taunted.

“Bite me.” Komamura barked gruffly.

“What does it matter anyway?” Ulquiorra asked, his thick, black claws scratching across his chalky skin. “Why do you care if I revive myself?” He scratched and scratched, tearing his flesh. “You hate me so much? You want me to stay this way? Unwhole? Broken?”

Komamura wasn’t in a position to debate. What little words he’d muttered were all he could manage. He shook his head, letting out a frustrated snort. Ulquiorra nodded, as if the noise had been confirmation of all of his fears. “I see. You _want_ me to suffer.” His cold, green eyes settled on the other Master. “You always have.”

* * *

 

_“You’re staring.”_

_“Mm.” Murcielago shook his head, tearing his eyes from the chiseled youth in front of him. He looked up at Kyoka, studying the teen’s smile lines. “No, I’m not.”_

_“You jealous?” Kyoka asked, sitting down beside Murcielago._

_“Of what?!” Murcielago gasped, pulling his cloak more closely over his sensitive skin. The sun was overbearing, beating down on him without mercy. He either covered up from head to toe or hid until nightfall._

_“Of Wabisuke.” Kyoka clarified needlessly, watching the swimming Master with interest._

_Wabisuke and Katen swam together, splashing each other freely. Even the sun seemed to favor Wabisuke. His skin was rich and tan, so smooth and unblemished. The water caressed him, parting his soaked, flaxen hair neatly; making his skin prickle, his nipples harden. He breathed out excitedly, pleading with Nozarashi not to dunk him underneath the water._

_Nozarashi lifted Wabisuke easily, his large, masculine hands pressing firmly against Wabisuke’s youthful, supple body. He hoisted him above his head, a crooked smirk on his face. He shouted to Katen over Wabisuke’s playful entreaties, some word of warning or such, and he tossed Wabisuke._

_The blonde, blue-eyed Master’s scream was silenced as he crashed into the river. The water splashed grandly, spraying everyone within several hundred yards. People groaned in complaint but only Hyorinmaru thought of retaliating against Nozarashi. He teased the larger Master, causing icicles to form on his eyelashes._

_“I’m not jealous.” Murcielago said finally, his maturing voice becoming deep. “Why would I be?”_

_“He’s beautiful.” Kyoka said simply, his hand resting on Murcielago’s clothed knee._

_“So?” Murcielago asked, mustering as much contempt as he could manage._

_“Well, you’re not.” Kyoka finished, a soft laugh escaping his lips._

_“I already know that.” Murcielago snapped, turning his head away from Kyoka._

_“So, if you’re not jealous,” Kyoka questioned. “Why are you watching him like that?”_

_“You’re watching him too.” Murcielago pointed out. He turned back toward Kyoka with an imperious expression. “Don’t you want to swim?”_

_Kyoka stood. He stripped his clothing off as he looked down on Murcielago. He smiled as the younger Master met his gaze, “Unlike you, I’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”_

_And with that Kyoka was in the water, splashing and frolicking with the rest. Murcielago fumed silently. He closed his eyes and laid on the ground, covering himself with a blanket. The sun still baked him through the cloth. Even his closed eyes couldn’t block the orange light._

_Murcielago listened to the others. They laughed. They teased one another good-naturedly. They played and they fought. They came alive in ways that he never could. He heard Nozarashi going after someone and by the sound of the reply he figured it was Shinso. Every person had a place. Every person had a purpose._

_“You awake in there?” a deep, masculine voice asked. And for a moment Murcielago couldn’t quite place it. The blanket lifted and Tenken’s handsome face came into view. He smiled attractively, his sandy-blonde hair wet and slicked back. He leaned in so closely. Murcielago inhaled his scent, feeling a little lightheaded. “I’m going hunting. Wanna come along?”_

_“No. Go away.” Murcielago groaned, closing his eyes again. His heart pounded, but he blamed it on Tenken surprising him. And the sudden closeness of their faces. And the inexplicable, manly scent Tenken had begun giving off._

_“The forest is cool and shady.” Tenken chimed, dangling the offer._

_Murcielago’s eyes sharpened and Tenken’s lips twitched, his smile slackening in preparation of what may come next. But Murcielago simply nodded, “Sure.”_

_“Really?” Tenken sat up straighter, the surprise evident in his voice and expression._

_“You offered, didn’t you?” Murcielago breathed out. “Did you change your mind already?”_

_“Of course not.” Tenken replied with an easy laugh. “I’d be honored for you to come with.”_

_“You’re starting to sound like Katen when you talk.” Murcielago realized._

_Tenken shrugged, “Am I?”_

_“It’s annoying.” Murcielago said flatly. “Stop it.”_

_“Ah, sorry,” Tenken apologized nervously._

_“Don’t act so anxious. It’s gross.” Murcielago chastised, sitting up._

_Tenken backed up a respectable distance as Murcielago climbed to his feet. Tenken thought that Murcielago looked a bit silly, wrapped in so much cloth on a hot, sunny day. He smiled kindly, giving Murcielago space as they walked. “You know, you don’t have to cover up so much…”_

_“Of course I do.” Murcielago snapped. “I’ve sensitive skin.”_

_Tenken laughed softly, “Shinso and Hyorinmaru used to burn a lot, remember? But they’ve built up a resistance. They haven’t had a sunburn for…” Tenken paused in thought. “A long time.”_

_“Yeah, well, I’m not Hyorinmaru.” Murcielago snapped. “He’s a bit of a monster. I don’t think I can aim to be like him.”_

_“Well, sure, I mean he_ is _strong but what about Wabisuke? He’s fair and…”_

_“What about Wabisuke?” Murcielago demanded. “You think I’m the same level as Wabisuke?” Murcielago shook his head. “No. No.” He pressed a short finger into Tenken’s chest. “I’m above that_ thing _. He prances about, making everyone pay attention to him like he’s some kind of whore…”_

_“No he doesn’t…” Tenken argued quietly, shaking his head. “That’s really unfair.”_

_“No, what’s unfair is that people lump us together.” Murcielago pressed on. “You and me! Ha! What a joke! Like my skin condition is anything like you being weak.”_

_Tenken growled lowly, his eyes yellow and uneasy. “Why are you like this?”_

_“Like what?”_

_“What have I ever done to you?” Tenken asked, his face filling with color._

_“No one look now,” Kyoka announced loudly. “But it looks as if the two little ones are confessing.”_

_Every set of eyes were on the two of them. Tenken’s upper body rippled with transformation, his ears pricking up. A few people snickered and it was just too much for Murcielago. “Shut up! Shut up, you stupid fucking pieces of shit!” Murcielago rounded on Tenken. “And you! You’re worthless! I hate you!”_

_“Guess thatsa no, then.” Shinso breathed out. “Better luck next time, Tenken.”_

_“Everybody shaddap!” Nozarashi commanded, stepping out of the river. Water rushed over him, down his muscled body and pooled beneath his long, skinny feet. He turned to the side and sneered, “Especially you, Kyoka Suigetsu.”_

_“I was only joking.” Kyoka insisted._

_“I said, shaddap.” Nozarashi snarled._

_“Leave it alone, Tenken.” Nozarashi said, placing his hand on the other’s shoulder. “He’s never gonna change.”_

_“You don’t know that.” Katen argued._

_“Yeah,” Nozarashi breathed out, tapping his finger against his head pointedly. “Yeah, I do.”_

_“Why should I have to change?” Murcielago snapped. “What’s wrong with me?”_

_“You’re an insecure coward.” Nozarashi said simply and without mercy. “And that’s the worst.”_

_“Oh, leave ‘em alone.” Kyoka interjected, smiling. “He’s exactly how he was meant to be.”_

_“Katen,” Nozarashi warned, cutting his green eyes at the older Master. “Step up or step back. These kids are a fucking disaster waiting to happen.”_

_“Like you’re any better.” Kyoka breathed, shaking his head. “Please…”_

_“Listen, all of you,” Katen sighed, pushing himself backward and onto the bank of the river. “I’m the eldest and with that comes certain responsibilities. But that doesn’t mean I’m the one in charge.”_

_“Someone has to be in charge.” Nozarashi snorted, a bit of smoke bursting past his nostrils._

_“I agree.” Katen insisted. “But that person’s not me.”_

_“Then who?” Shinso asked, his head tilting to the side._

_“We should vote on it.” Katen suggested. “That said, I nominate Hyorinmaru and Nozarashi.”_

_“Agreed.” Shinso chimed._

_“Hey! I didn’t mean me!” Nozarashi barked._

_“Why not? You two are pretty much the de facto leaders already…” Katen reasoned._

_“I’d rather not.” Hyorinmaru interjected uneasily._

_“Someone needs to keep order. Someone needs to make some rules around here. It’s a God damned madhouse at times…” Kyoka chimed in. “And I agree. The two of them would be the best fit.”_

_“What are you after?” Nozarashi breathed out._

_“What? I mean it.” Kyoka insisted. “I’m being sincere. You’ll do a great job.”_

_“Let’s vote.” Katen encouraged._

_“We’re a family.” Hyorinmaru argued. “Families don’t need leaders.”_

_“Because they have parents.” Katen explained._

_“Mark my vote for Hyorinmaru and Nozarashi.” Kyoka said, getting up. “I’m going to go find Murcielago. He seems to have wandered off.”_

_“Leave him be.” Tenken barked._

_“I can’t understand you when you speak dog.” Kyoka whispered, knocking his shoulder against Tenken as he passed. And then louder, “I’ll be back.”_

* * *

 

“I wanted to kill you.” Ulquiorra breathed out, his hand sliding through Komamura’s chest. He wriggled his hand, squeezing Komamura’s heart. “But I don’t have the time.”

Ulquiorra wrenched his hand free, letting Komamura slide unconscious to the ground. He shook his arm, letting blood and tissue slither off of him. The crimson was a startling contrast to his deathly pale skin. He considered a moment before licking a bit of blood off his arm.

Something nagged at him, but he couldn’t name it. He looked Komamura over once more, squatting beside the Master’s body. He placed his hand against Komamura’s cheek and inhaled deeply. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they’d shared a home.

“I’m sorry.” Ulquiorra said, leaving a bloody print across Komamura’s handsome face. “I wish…” He swallowed the rest of his words forever. He cleared his throat before continuing. “It’s me or him. Don’t get in my way again.”


	25. Total Dark Sublime

** Part XXV: Total Dark Sublime **

_“Looking up at the stars, I know quite well  
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,  
But on earth indifference is the least  
We have to dread from man or beast.  
  
How should we like it were stars to burn  
With a passion for us we could not return?  
If equal affection cannot be,  
Let the more loving one be me.  
  
Admirer as I think I am  
Of stars that do not give a damn,  
I cannot, now I see them, say  
I missed one terribly all day.  
  
Were all stars to disappear or die,  
I should learn to look at an empty sky  
And feel its total dark sublime,  
Though this might take me a little time."_    
— W.H. Auden, _The More Loving One_

* * *

 

“Jaegerjaquez! It _is_ you…”

Grimmjow edged into the room, looking around at the marvelously bejeweled room. Any other time it would have fully captivated him. He let out an irritated click, his blue eyes sharp and narrowed. “It was hard enough to get in here. Fuck!”

“Why on Earth would you attack-” Unohana began, her braided black hair swinging as she shook her head.

“Shut up.” Grimmjow barked. He looked around the room in confusion. He shook his head to clear it. “We need help.”

“Who?” Urahara asked, leaning closer.

“Ichigo.” Grimmjow repeated for the hundredth time. “He’s in danger.”

“Ichi-go?” Shinji repeated his name slowly, his eyes rolling to the side thoughtfully. “Rings a bell…”

“Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki.” Grimmjow explained. “The kid Urahara helped remember his name.”

“Ah. Yes. I do remember that boy.” Urahara nodded. “Where is he? What’s going on?”

“He’s coming.” Grimmjow answered, exhaling in relief. “Komamura met us. Something happened and he sent me ahead. But he’s getting Ichigo here.” Grimmjow explained quickly. “They should be here soon.”

“Komamura?” Yamamoto asked, his brows furrowed together.

“Yes.” Grimmjow nodded, feeling the muscles in his shoulders beginning to relax.

“Komamura’s already back.” Yamamoto said simply.

“Oh, thank god.” Grimmjow breathed into his hands.

“He was alone.”

Grimmjow’s blood froze in his veins. “What?”

“He was brought back right before you arrived.” Shinji explained, his smile slipping from his face. “He was a mess.”

“Who brought him back?” Grimmjow demanded.

“Hitsugaya.” Yamamoto answered.

“Call Hitsugaya in here. Ask him about Ichigo!” Grimmjow instructed impatiently.

“He’s tending to Komamura,” Unohana explained. “He was severely wounded.”

“Okay, listen, that doesn’t change anything…” Grimmjow barked. “Ichigo is on his way here, right now. And he needs our help or he’ll die.”

“His contract expire?” Urahara muttered, waving his hand in front of his face. “Such a shame.”

“No!” Grimmjow snapped. “He has years left.”

“How many?” Unohana questioned curiously. “Is he rejecting the piece of his Master?”

“Oh, yeah,” Urahara agreed with a nod. “I’ve seen wolfstraps cause cancer before.”

“No! Listen to me! Fuck!” Grimmjow growled. “His Master… They share a body.”

“Possession is fatal.” Unohana replied instantly, her dark lashes beating open and closed.

“Every time.” Yamamoto added.

“No, this is different.” Grimmjow insisted. “He’s been doing it for years, decades! Since I met him… It’s not like anything I’ve seen before…”

 “Where is he?” Yamamoto asked, his voice crisp and sharp as it cut over Grimmjow.

“He’s coming.” Grimmjow replied with a nod, licking his lips reflexively.

“He probably won’t make it.” Shinji reasoned, his lips pursing together unhappily.

“Why not?!” Grimmjow snapped.

“Komamura didn’t attack himself.” Urahara pointed out.

Grimmjow opened his mouth to reply but hesitated. He shook his head in refusal and turned his back on the Council. He began to pace, his bare feet clicking against the marble floor. He paused, eyeing the Council severely. “He’ll be here.”

* * *

 

Ichigo ignored the pain. It was easy. His very existence was pain. But eventually the pain wore off and there was nothingness. The nothingness was consuming. It was like quicksand; pulling him in and crushing him beneath it.

“Come on.” Ichigo urged himself, staring down at his feet and willing them to move forward. “Come on.” He stumbled on his feet. If he fell now, he wasn’t sure he’d get up. He gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. “Come on, Ichigo.”

Somehow he was running again.

His body had been pushed to the limit. His toes were swollen and blistered; his nails were torn and bloody. The bottoms of his feet had been pierced by rock. A trail of bloodied footprints followed behind him.

But he ran.

He couldn’t breathe. His lungs felt as if they might explode. His ribs crushed them inward uncomfortably. They’d no room to expand. They felt heavy and cold. But it wasn’t pain, not anymore.

And so he ran.

* * *

 

“Where ya goin’?” Shinji asked, watching Grimmjow curiously.

“I’m sure he’s close.” Grimmjow replied, his blue eyes focused on something far off.

“I’ll help ya.” Shinji offered with a beaming smile.

Grimmjow wasn’t in the mood for gratefulness or company, so he merely nodded in response. Shinji didn’t mind. His wide, toothy smile never faltered. He walked leisurely while somehow still keeping pace with Grimmjow.

“Does he know how to get here?” Shinji asked.

“He’ll be able to smell it.”

“Yeah, I s’pose that’s right.” Shinji agreed with an amused chuckle. Shinji watched Grimmjow out of the corner of his eye for a moment before speaking again. “You’ve been gone for a while.”

“Not really.” Grimmjow refuted, shrugging his shoulders and quickening his pace. “What’s time to our kind anyway?”

“That’s true…” Shinji trailed off.

“I can’t pick up his scent.” Grimmjow realized as they reached the doors. “I should be able to.”

“Too many other distractions?” Shinji suggested, gesturing around.

“Maybe.” Grimmjow agreed sullenly.

“Not convinced?” Shinji drawled. “Why then?”

Grimmjow’s anger flared. He reached out, grabbing Shinji by the collar and twisting, “He’ll be here.” Grimmjow spit out. “Don’t believe me?”

“I believe ya. I believe ya.” Shinji breathed out, his hand resting on top of Grimmjow’s. “Don’t get mad at me.”

Grimmjow released the shifter with a snarl, turning away from the other man and wrenching open the doors. He strode through them and past the guards without a word. They watched Grimmjow nervously but said nothing. They didn’t have the nerve, Grimmjow thought.

“Now stay calm.” Shinji instructed quietly. “Focus and find him.”

“I will. Shut up.” Grimmjow barked.

“I know.” Shinji replied with a grin. “You can find anyone, anywhere. It’s an amazing talent.”

Shinji’s words were kind, but they fell on deaf ears. Grimmjow _could_ find anyone, anywhere, _usually…_ Something wasn’t right. Grimmjow cursed loudly, snowy white fur shooting across his back and down his arms. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. “Where are you? Where are you?” Grimmjow chanted under his breath. “Come on, Ichigo. Come on…”

* * *

 

“Come on.” Just a little farther.

“Come on.” Just a little more.

Ichigo’s feet pounded against the ground; a sharp, jagged stone spearing through his flesh. He didn’t even feel it. He pressed on, feeling as if his body was falling apart inch by inch. He wondered if he’d make it. And if he did, would he be in one piece or twenty? He could smell his own blood and sweat spilling but felt no pain.

He couldn’t say how long he’d been running. He didn’t even know if he was headed in the right direction. The only thing he knew was that he had precious minutes before the Master was finished with Komamura. And then he’d be after him. And it would be nothing to catch him.

“Ichigo!”

Ichigo laughed in relief, his eyes watering. He’d never heard such a beautiful sound. “I’m here! I’m coming!”

“Ichigo?!” Grimmjow came into view, out of breath and panicked. His face twitched and he smiled crookedly. He started to say something but froze, his eyes widening in shock. As if in slow motion, Grimmjow reached out, his arms extended toward Ichigo. His calves flexed supplely, pushing him off at high speed. He wasn’t too far now, his fingers curved outward in desperation.

“Grimm-” the name died on Ichigo’s tongue as he was slammed into the earth.

Ichigo spattered across the ground, rolling and tumbling violently. The bones in his arms snapped, his legs jutting out at awkward angles. His fingers bent backward, several of them ripping off from his palms. His head struck the ground with such force it twisted and snapped around, facing the side with glazed eyes.

“No!” Grimmjow moaned, stumbling over the top of Ichigo’s body. It was disgusting, feeling the other’s wrecked body beneath his feet. “Stop! Wait!”

Grimmjow skidded to a halt, inches from the approaching Master. Grimmjow raised his hands protectively, his eyes clenching tightly closed. His shoulders scrunched up, his entire body reacting reflexively.

“He doesn’t belong to you.” Ulquiorra snapped, his green eyes narrowed hatefully. He placed his palm against Grimmjow’s chest, sending the shifter flying to the side. Ulquiorra continued walking toward Ichigo where he kneeled down. He pulled the dead shifter’s body into his arms and stood.

“He doesn’t belong to you either…” Grimmjow shouted, detangling himself from a mess of shrubbery. Ulquiorra didn’t reply. He continued walking toward a silvery portal.

“Wait…” Grimmjow groaned, yanking a splintered branch out from his inner thigh. Blood poured from the wound but he ignored it. He lifted his hand, fresh blood staining his lips. “Wait a minute.”

Ulquiorra paused, Ichigo lying unconscious in his arms. He looked Grimmjow up and down before speaking, “Why?”

“You’ll kill him.” Grimmjow explained, coughing blood into his hand after.

Ulquiorra made a clicking noise. He shook his head, his black, shaggy hair splaying around his head. His green eyes twinkled with amusement. “If that’s all…”

“You need him alive!” Grimmjow shouted, taking a few rushed steps toward Ulquiorra.

“I don’t need your help.” Ulquiorra breathed out. “I never did.”

“Stop it. If he dies you can’t use him! Let me help him!”

Ulquiorra shook his head, “I’ve humored you for so long, but that’s over now.”

“It’s not over… It’s not over…”

“It is.” Ulquiorra said simply.

“Not yet.” Grimmjow snarled, taking another steps closer to Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra half turned. His lips were held closed; his eyes were neutral and vacant. He rolled his head from side to side, popping his neck. And then he spoke, “You’re wasting your time.”

“I’m n-”

“You are.” Ulquiorra spoke calmly, but commanding enough to silence Grimmjow’s argument. “Don’t you get it? He’s never loved you. You’ve simply been convenient to him and his survival.”

“No, he and I…”

“No. You listen. He’s incapable of it. You foolish weakling…” Ulquiorra shook his head, growing more impatient. “He doesn’t even have a heart!”

“I-”

“He has no heart! The only thing keeping him alive is my own resting inside of his chest. He can’t love you. It’s impossible. And you’re just a chump.” Ulquiorra spit. “Someone to feed and protect and clothe him when he was unable to do it himself.”

“Just like you’re a gutless coward,” Ulquiorra continued. “When it matters most.”

“I’m not.” Grimmjow refuted, shaking his head and curling his hands into fists.

“You are.” Ulquiorra replied before turning around. He carried Ichigo to the portal, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips. “You can’t even attack with my back turned.”

“Where are you taking him?” Grimmjow demanded, pacing back and forth.

“It’s none of your concern.” Ulquiorra answered, eyeing Grimmjow one last time. “The next time you see him, it will be me.”

“I won’t let you.” Grimmjow barked, rushing forward.

“I should kill you,” Ulquiorra sighed. “But it seems like such a waste. You’ve done my shifter so many favors along the way.” Ulquiorra met Grimmjow’s eyes. “Taking him to the beach… that was…nice…”

“Shut up.” Grimmjow growled, slashing his hand through the air where Ulquiorra stood a moment before.

Ulquiorra moved faster than a blink. He stood several yards away in front of a new portal. “Goodbye, Grimmjow.”

“No, wait!” Grimmjow pleaded, pressing his hands together as if in prayer. “Let me come with him…” Grimmjow dropped to his knees, scrambling toward Ulquiorra as quickly as possible. “Let me come with you…”

Ulquiorra frowned, his green eyes clouding over, “Oh, it’s much too late for those pretty words.” And then he stepped through the silver portal, Ichigo in his arms, and disappeared from view.

* * *

 

When Ichigo came to it was dark. He blinked unsurely, the heavy darkness covering him like a cloak. He swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy. It took another few moments before he recalled the last thing he saw. “Grimmjow?”

There was a sound behind him and he turned. It was too dark to see even shadows but he caught the glimpse of movement, white skin against black. He sat up, his eyes adjusting excruciatingly slow. “Master?”

“Grimmjow’s not here.”

Ichigo nodded, licking his lips as a pair of glowing green eyes settled on him. “Where are we?”

Ulquiorra muttered to himself unintelligibly before responding, “My home.”

Ichigo felt a pang in his chest and he looked down, rubbing his hand over his skin. He couldn’t see an inch in front of him in the darkness, but he didn’t need to, to know that his skin was marred with bubbling black blood just beneath the surface. He immediately felt ill and he sank back to the floor.

“Don’t worry.” Ulquiorra said, almost comfortingly. “You’ll be more at ease soon.”

“Master?”

“I’m going to take care of you, keep you safe…” Ulquiorra whispered in the darkness.

“How long are we resting here?” Ichigo asked nervously.

Ulquiorra clicked his tongue, “You won’t be leaving.”

“Master?”

Ulquiorra moved closer, until their foreheads touched. He peered into Ichigo’s face. “You tried to run away from me.”

“No, Master, I…”

Ulquiorra placed a short finger against Ichigo’s lips. “Shhhhh…”

“But Master I sw-”

“I need you. And you were going to leave me.” Ulquiorra accused, pounding his skull against Ichigo’s roughly. Ichigo was silent, his heart beating wildly in his chest. “You won’t ever do anything like that again.”

‘No, Master. I won’t.”

“That’s because I’ll keep you here.” Ulquiorra continued, his fingers pinching Ichigo’s lips together sharply. “You’ll stay here, safe and sound, until you die…”

Ichigo didn’t dare speak a word. Ulquiorra nodded to himself, his burning skin warming Ichigo’s. “You have a few years left.” Ulquiorra muttered under his breath incoherently before continuing, “I always honor a deal.”

“We’re going to stay here… for twe-” Ichigo was silenced by Ulquiorra’s grip around his throat.

“I can’t forgive you for trying to run away.” Ulquiorra breathed out, crushing his hand over Ichigo’s windpipe. “But you also… you told me about the hallucinations… so…” Ulquiorra’s hold loosened. “I suppose I will let it go.”

“Master…”

“But what to do? What to do?” Ulquiorra mused, his voice deep and humorless.

“About what, Master?” Ichigo questioned in terror.

“How do I make sure you’ll never run again?”

“I won’t, Master…” Ichigo insisted. “It was a misunderstanding… it won’t happen again…”

“No it won’t.” Ulquiorra agreed. “Because I’m going to keep you safe.”

Ulquiorra grabbed a handful of Ichigo’s hair and forced him onto his side. Ichigo slid downward, a strange, moist grit clinging to his clothes and skin. The scent of fresh earth assailed him and he realized what was happening.

“No! No! Please! Master, no!” Ichigo cried. He threw out his arms and legs, trying to stop his fall. The mouth of the hole began to crumble. The Master was too strong and his grip was too tight on Ichigo’s hair. “No! Please don’t! Don’t!”

Ulquiorra shoved Ichigo into the newly dug hole. Ichigo leapt up, grabbing the sides. The edges crumbled, sending dirt into Ichigo’s eyes and mouth. He spit rudely, lunging toward the surface again. “Master!”

“You’ll be fine in there.” Ulquiorra murmured absently, sending piles of dirt into the hole. “It’s not as if it will kill you.”

“Master! Please!” Ichigo sobbed, his stomach twisting and his heart pounding. “Let me out.”

“I will let you out.” Ulquiorra replied, dumping feet of dirt into the hole. He moved quickly, too quickly for Ichigo to escape. He pressed Ichigo down with his feet as he buried the shifter up to his shoulders. “When the contract runs out.”

And then, with a massive sweep of his hands, he filled the hole and covered the top, burying Ichigo inside. He stood up, brushing his soiled hands together. He grabbed a bit of wood, yanking it free of the wall. He dropped it on the ground and stomped it down roughly. Ulquiorra sat down on the rough, rotting wood and closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips.


	26. Unexpressed Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be patient with me. Updates may be slow. I'm in a mandatory evacuation zone due to Hurricane Harvey. I am safe. My family is safe. We have food and power. But we have lots of damage and the storm isn't over yet. I will update when possible.

** Part XXVI: Unexpressed Emotions **

"Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways."   
— Sigmund Freud

* * *

 

Ulquiorra sat with his legs folded beneath him. His hands resting in his lap, his fingers curled as if in a purposeful stretch. He was completely motionless; breathless, lifeless. He finally stirred, his eyes opening. He inhaled the stagnant stench in the air and wrinkled his nose in involuntary response.

When he moved, his joints clicked noisily from disuse. The interrupted blood flow to his extremities made him unusually stiff and disjointed. His tendons popped loudly, his cartilage grinding against bone as he climbed to his feet.

He reached down, lifting the bit of rotted wood and tossing it to the side. It hit the wall of the shack and clattered against the wood before falling to the dirt-covered floor. Ulquiorra dropped slowly to his knees. He placed his hands on the ground, feeling the earth between his fingers. He waited impatiently, his hands caressing the grave beneath him. And then he heard it, felt it; a heartbeat. He dug quickly, dirt lodging beneath his too-short fingernails.

Dirt was launched over his shoulder as he excavated the space in front of him. He clicked his tongue, a staccato breath escaping his lips as his pale hand touched another. He held the muddied hand in his for the briefest of moments before continuing to clear away the earth. He grabbed a fistful of hair, the coppery fibers snagging between his fingers. He murmured to himself, shoveling handfuls of dirt away from the shifter’s head. He cleared away the earth blocking Ichigo’s face. He lifted his shifter’s head, brushing clumps of soil from his matted black lashes. “There you are.”

“Time to wake up.” Ulquiorra said softly, clearing the heavy earth from Ichigo’s shoulders. He pulled on Ichigo, gradually yanking him free of the roots and dirt. He laid the shifter on the ground beside the disturbed grave and looked him over. “Wake up.”

Ulquiorra clapped his hand against Ichigo’s soot-covered cheek. Ichigo lay motionless; no sign of life. Ulquiorra clicked his tongue again, his jaw tightening. He thought for a moment before pushing his fingers inside of Ichigo’s mouth. He cleared his mouth of soil, scraping toward the sides of his gums and edge of his throat.

Ichigo’s heart beat sharply in his chest. _Ba-dum._

“It’s time.” Ulquiorra said, smacking Ichigo’s cheek again sharply. _Ba-dum._

Ulquiorra held his breath. He watched Ichigo with great interest, watching for any sign of revival. Ulquiorra could hardly contain his anxiety. He chewed on his nails rudely, spitting the torn shards of nail onto the ground beside him. “Wake up.”

_Ba-dum._

“Yes.” Ulquiorra breathed out, nodding his head. “Time to wake up.”

_Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum_ , Ichigo’s heart beat rapidly.

Ichigo’s eyes opened first, the sclera of his eyes startling in contrast to his mud covered skin. His brown eyes met Ulquiorra’s and his jaw dropped open. Eyes wide, and mouth hanging loosely, he let out a terrible, feral scream. His scream ripped from his throat violently, mud dripping from his lips and down his chin.

Ulquiorra sat in stunned silence for several petrified seconds. He reached out, placing his hand on Ichigo’s chest. “Calm.”

Ichigo sat up, sending dirt everywhere. Creepy crawlies squirmed and wriggled, escaping his sudden movement. Ichigo couldn’t stop screaming, his hands curled into fists, squeezing mud out from between his fingers.  The bugs were everywhere, they ran for their lives, oozing and crawling toward Ulquiorra in mass. It seemed as if the entire hole was constructed of millions of insects.

“Fuck!” Ulquiorra gasped, standing up. He made a face, shaking his head from side to side. His hands made an involuntary flapping movement and he hopped from foot to foot in disgust.

Ichigo rolled forward, then backward, rocking his body until he was on his feet. A millipede slid across his face, scurrying down his neck and across his shoulder. His scream ended abruptly. He stood there, watching Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra straightened up, returning Ichigo’s gaze with a sharp glare. “The contract is over.”

Ichigo was silent.

“It’s time for me to collect.” Ulquiorra continued.

* * *

 

“Hyorin-” Komamura stumbled over his mistake. “Ah, I mean, Hitsugaya…”

The small young man paused, turning slightly to watch Komamura. “Yes?”

“There’s a situation.” Komamura breathed out nervously, his hands fidgeting in front of him.

“Is it Jaegerjaquez again?” Toshiro asked dryly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just tell the guards to let him go wherever he wants. There’s no stopping him…”

“No. It’s not him.” Komamura clarified, shaking his head.

Toshiro frowned, “Well? What is it then?”

“It’s the Dragon.”

Toshiro looked toward Yamamoto before looking back to Komamura. He closed the distance between them, the top of his shoulder pressing into Komamura’s side. “Let’s take a walk.”

“Of course.” Komamura agreed, watching the shifters as they walked past.

“Anything wrong?” Unohana asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Personal business.” Toshiro answered briskly, not even sparing the shifters a glance.  Toshiro made a face once out of view. “They’re becoming unbearable.”

Komamura nodded in agreement. “If the Creator didn’t ask me not to, I probably would’ve killed them a hundred years ago.”

Toshiro smiled, a surprised chuckle escaping his lips. “Really? That isn’t like you…”

“I like humans.” Komamura explained. “They’re not humans. They’re Masters without the wisdom of experience.”

Once he was sure they were alone, Toshiro pressed Komamura for information. “Now what about the Dragon?”

“He sent for you.” Komamura answered, licking his lips.

“What? When?” Toshiro demanded in shock. “How did he get ahold of you?”

“Just a few moments ago,” Komamura replied. “I was with the Creator and suddenly I was in Xibalba.”

“Why didn’t he just summon me himself?” Toshiro asked, irked.

“You’re probably too strong, sir.” Komamura breathed out. “It’s nothing to transport someone like me.”

“Well?” Toshiro snipped impatiently. “What did he want?”

“He wants to see you.”

Toshiro made another face. “What about?”

“Hyorinmaru,” Komamura sighed. “If Nozarashi is calling you… Then it must be very important.”

Toshiro nodded reluctantly. “Of course.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I’ll go right away.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Komamura offered.

Toshiro’s turquoise eyes softened. He smiled indulgently, placing his hand on Komamura’s arm. “Thank you, but I can handle him myself.”

* * *

 

The Master sighed dreamily, covering his face with a slender, pale arm. The sun was pleasantly warm and the breeze was salty. He opened his eyes as the body beside him stirred. He eyed the shifter with a single blue eye. “Where’re you goin’?”

“Fuck,” Grimmjow drawled, stretching his arms high above his head, his voice devoid of heat. He smiled handsomely and let out a soft chuckle. “I was planning on escaping while you napped.”

“I wasn’t asleep.” Kira replied, making a sour face. He rolled over, his beautiful, bare flesh catching Grimmjow’s eye. Grimmjow ran a hand over Kira’s side, starting from the shoulder and down to well below his thigh. “Well, where _were_ you going?”

“For a swim.” Grimmjow said simply, hitching his thumb toward the ocean.

“Okaaay…” Kira drawled, unconvinced.

“This is a mirage, a hallucination… Where the hell would I go?” Grimmjow barked, shaking his head.

Kira shrugged, smoothing down his blonder hair with his slender hands. “I’m afraid you’ll run off and those big, bad monsters will show up.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” Grimmjow vowed.

Kira considered Grimmjow’s answer for a moment before nodding, “No. You wouldn’t.”

“I’m an asshole. But I’m a cute, fun asshole.” Grimmjow declared.

“Oh?” Kira mused, his hair falling over one eye. “Do you re-”

The image of the beach pixelated. The sun flickered. The sand disappeared and then reappeared a moment later. Kira sat up, his hand shooting to his mouth. He looked as if he might be sick. Grimmjow leaned over Kira in concern. And then it hit him. A powerful, terrible jolt of energy.

“A Master.” Grimmjow choked out, his fingers digging into the sand beneath him.

“Shit.” Kira groaned, his brows furrowed. “Let me out of here…” The beach disappeared. The bright sun became a sky of stars and a sliver of moon. The warm sand morphed into soft, thick grass. The breeze died leaving behind a dry chill. “They’re too close for comfort.”

“It’s so strong.” Grimmjow breathed out, barely able to push himself to his feet.

“It should subside in a moment.” Kira explained, crawling to his feet. He waved his hand, summoning a long pipe. He puffed on it anxiously, his blue eyes closing. “They’re just bleeding dark matter.”

“A friend of yours?” Grimmjow questioned, holding his stomach cautiously.

“No.” Kira answered flatly. “No friend of mine.” Kira shrugged, smiling as an idea came to him. “Oh well. It’s not our problem. I do wonder what the Council is doing right now…”

“Probably jizzing in their pants.” Grimmjow snarled. “I hope they all die.”

“Such a terrible thought.” Kira chastised half-heartedly. “Forgiveness goes a long way.”

“I’d fucking do it myself if they didn’t have that little ice goblin fighting all their battles for them.” Grimmjow challenged, his lips pulling back over bared teeth. “Cowards.”

“Little Ice Goblin…” Kira repeated the insult before erupting into a fit of hysterics. “Oh, sweet, Creator. I can’t wait to tell him you said that…”

There was another stream of nauseating energy. Kira and Grimmjow exchanged looks. And then Grimmjow felt it, a gentle tug in his belly. It started as a flutter and then it became a full blown compulsion. He took a confused step forward, and then another, until he was nearly jogging.

“What is it?” Kira called out, his pipe smoking in his hand.

“I don’t know…” But suddenly Grimmjow did know. He knew that feeling. He knew that craving force that urged him onward. “No way…” Grimmjow murmured, his entire body tingling with anticipation. “It’s him.”

“I’ll be seeing you then.” Kira called out, giving a small wave.

Grimmjow turned, watching Kira saunter down the lane. He gave a little hop-skip and kicked absently at a rock, smoke curling around him like a blanket.  “See ya when I see ya.”

“Do you think…?” Grimmjow called out, swallowing the lump in his throat. Kira paused, arching his head back to hear the rest of Grimmjow’s question. “Do you think it’s really him?”

Kira smiled handsomely, “I’ve never met the fellow. I wouldn’t know… buuuuut…” Kira drawled. “You think it’s him. And I don’t reckon you’re wrong.”

* * *

 

“You wanted to see me?” Toshiro asked, his slender arms crossed over his narrow chest.

“You finally made it…” the deep voice rumbled, shaking the cavern.

Toshiro sighed, brushing his hand through his white hair. “Quit with the theatrics. I’m here. Why did you summon me?”

“I have something to show you.” The lake in front of Toshiro rippled, the tide washing unexpectedly over Toshiro’s boots.

“Just tell me.” Toshiro groaned impatiently. “I don’t have time to play games.” The cavern shook violently. Rocks slid down the walls, crashing dangerously into the lake and littering the shore. There was a monstrous laugh, like from deep in the belly. Smoke filled the air, choking out the oxygen and blinding Toshiro’s view. “What? What’s so funny?”

“You are.”

Toshiro’s face screwed up in frustration. “How so?”

“Do you think that _I_ wanted you to come here?” The Dragon breathed, flames flicking from inside its enormous snout. “I have no idea why you were summoned either.”

“Aren’t you the one who summoned me?” Toshiro snapped.

The cavern trembled threateningly, “Ya know, you’re really pissin’ me off, Hyorinmaru…”

“Yabbe, yabbe.” Katen groaned, jumping down from his unseen perch on the rock ledge.

“O-oh, Ka-ten…” Toshiro breathed out, shock wiping his face expressionless. “It’s you.”

“You two shouldn’t fight.” Katen drawled, smiling handsomely. “You’re friends.”

“It’s really you…” Toshiro murmured in disbelief, he reached out touching his fingers against Katen’s skin as if he were precious.

“Not quite.” Katen replied with an apologetic shrug.

“It’s not his soul.” The Dragon explained. “It’s just dark matter.”

Toshiro looked Katen up and down. He looked so real; flesh and bone. He wanted to touch Katen’s hair, to tuck that wily curl behind his ear, but knowing it was just an image, and not the person, he withheld.  “Why are you here?” Toshiro asked, addressing Katen.

“I need a favor.”

Toshiro let out an involuntary snort. The Dragon laughed loudly, appearing in his human form beside Katen. His green eyes closed with laughter, his hand touching his muscled stomach in support. “Yeah, I know. I had the same reaction.”

“You have a favor to ask?” Toshiro clarified, his turquoise eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Yes.” Katen answered simply before flashing an apologetic smile.

“And what sort of favor would you need me to help with?” Toshiro asked, looking from Katen to Nozarashi unsurely.

“I need both of you.” Katen explained. “You’ll have to work together.”

“Oh, this’s gonna be good...” Nozarashi mumbled, rolling his neck from side to side with a loud **crack-crack!**

“I’m not asking as Katen.” Katen said suddenly.

The smile slipped from Nozarashi’s face and his gaze met Toshiro’s. “What do you mean?” Toshiro asked.

Katen smiled. He licked his lips and let out a little sigh. “I’ll explain everything.”

* * *

 

“Am I going to die now?” Ichigo asked, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

Ulquiorra nodded, his chalky, white hands stroking Ichigo’s face softly. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Ichigo breathed out, his eyes closing.

“Are you scared?” Ulquiorra murmured, his fingertips brushing calming circles into Ichigo’s cheeks.

Ichigo swallowed, “Yes.”

“Don’t be.” Ulquiorra spoke almost kindly. He pressed his fingers into Ichigo’s temples. “It’s just like falling asleep.”

“What if…” Ichigo breathed out, “I don’t want to die?”

Ulquiorra’s green eyes narrowed. He watched Ichigo wordlessly for a moment before responding. “It’s too late for that.”

“Just take it.” Ichigo insisted, his muddied hand clutching at his chest.

Ulquiorra’s face twitched. He looked as if he was carefully considering his response. Finally, he shook his head, his fingers pinching Ichigo’s earlobe softly. “I’m going to take all of it.”

“No.” Ichigo refused, banging his hand against his chest. “Just take what’s yours and leave me alone…”

“That’ll kill you too.” Ulquiorra explained. “And then neither of us gets anything.”

“I’ll give it back…” Ichigo bargained. He clawed at his flesh, tearing the skin with his dirt-caked fingernails. “You can have it.”

“You can’t live without a heart.” Ulquiorra whispered.

“Then… then just give mine back… I’ll give you yours and…” Ichigo panicked.

“I took your heart long ago, swallowed it up, and ate it whole…” Ulquiorra replied, his deep voice bouncing over his words melodiously.

Ichigo shook his head, his brown eyes wide with madness. “No.”

“Calm.” Ulquiorra commanded. He pressed his palms against the sides of Ichigo’s face and squeezed firmly. “It’ll hurt but it’ll be over quick.”

Ichigo blinked, two fat tears rolling down his dust-covered cheeks. His eyes were wide and chaotic, wounded. He felt a lump grow in his throat, but he couldn’t swallow it down. “I’ve lived through so much… and now… just like this…”

“You didn’t live through anything.” Ulquiorra responded. His eyes glowed in the darkness, illuminating his white face like a demon. “I did.”

 

 


	27. Glint of Light

** Part XXVII: Glint of Light **

_"Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass."_  
— Anton Chekhov

* * *

 

_“Where you going?”_

He was there, no, it was Ichigo who was there. _Ichigo paused in the doorway, one hand slapped against the wall, the other already halfway out the door. “Nowhere.”_

_Isshin rolled his eyes and head, and he let out an impatient snort. “Boy, you’re just…”_

_“Let him go,” Masaki murmured, rocking the two sleeping babies in her arms. She smiled at her son indulgently before turning toward her husband. “He’s worked hard all day.”_

_“Doctors don’t get breaks.” Isshin snapped, wiping off one of his tools. “It’s a sacrifice we make for the good of others…” Isshin clicked his tongue. “And your mother made stew.”_

_“You can go.” Masaki decided, giving her husband a knowing look. “If it’s okay with your father.”_

_“I’ll be back before supper.” Ichigo sighed, drumming his fingers against the wall._

_“Go on and get out of here then.” Isshin growled, lowering his head over his work. Ichigo’s small feet beat against the floor of the home. He was almost gone when Isshin called out again, “Hey! Ichigo,” Isshin said, more softly this time. “Don’t be too late.”_

_“Okay, I won’t.” Ichigo agreed with a nod._

Ulquiorra gripped his head, rubbing circles into his temples. His skull pounded. It felt as if it might split open and slosh out across the floor like slop. He crawled across the floor, his short, dirty nails digging into the earth. He inhaled sharply. His lungs burned with fire.

“God, it’s…” He spoke aloud. And even through the pain, the voice he heard gave him a shiver of excitement. His voice was even and light; handsome, manly, youthful. It was his voice, no _his_ voice now.

The pain was excruciating. He tried again to crawl forward, to pull himself to his feet, but he couldn’t. Everything was intense and he thought he might be dying too. He grunted loudly, his heart pounding in his brain. “Just let go now. You’re done. It’s mine…”

_“Ichigo! Ichi-go!” Yuzu whined, jumping up on her toes._

_“No fair, Ichigo!” Karin barked, folding her arms over her chest. “We can’t reach.”_

_“I can’t reach from the ground either.” Ichigo explained, chewing on his apple pointedly. Juice ran down his chin and he wiped it with his sleeve. “That’s why I’m up here.”_

_“I’ll get you one.” Karin vowed, looking at her sister before turning toward the tree. “I can make it.”_

_“It’s too tall.” Yuzu argued. “You’ll get hurt.”_

_Ichigo laughed as he slid down the trunk of the tree to the ground. He smiled, handing his sisters both an apple he’d tucked away in his clothes. “Here.”_

_“Ah, thank you, Ichigo!” Yuzu cried out happily, sinking her teeth into the fresh apple._

_“I could’ve gotten it.” Karin muttered, rolling her apple over and over in inspection._

_“I know.” Ichigo said, knocking his finger against Karin’s chin. “But I was already up there.”_

Ulquiorra rolled onto his back. It was so dark. The black of the house was nearly suffocating. He waved his hand in front of his face, his breath catching in his throat. “I can’t see! I can’t see!” Ulquiorra panicked. He rolled his head from side to side, searching for anything to help him. He couldn’t see. Why? Was it too dark? Was it just part of the process? Ulquiorra cursed loudly. “I can’t see…”

_Yuzu cried noisily, a wailing, haunting sort of sound. It was heavy and too loud. Much too loud. Ichigo scratched his neck roughly, letting his hand move up to his head. He pressed his fingers into his ears and twisted forcefully, enough to hurt but not quite enough to drown out his younger sister’s sobs._

_“Mama…” Karin sniffled, rubbing her nose with a clenched fist._

_“She’s gone.” Isshin said simply._

_“No!” Yuzu shouted, her voice hoarse with emotion. She reached out to touch her mother, lying there on the floor with a sheet draped over her, but her father stopped her, pulling her tiny hand into his._

_Ichigo’s heart beat moved to his ears. It pounded in his skull, ricocheting about in a jumble of nerves. His father spoke to him, his dark eyes looking elsewhere, but Ichigo couldn’t understand him. His father repeated it, casting a glance at his son expectantly. “What?” Ichigo murmured._

_His father’s palm struck his cheek with a loud slap. Ichigo blinked unsurely, his fingers slowly dropping from his ears. He shook his head, his shoulders scrunching up against his neck like a scolded dog. “Sir?” Ichigo spoke cautiously._

_“I told you to get out of here.” Isshin snapped. “I can’t look at your face right now.”_

Ulquiorra gasped for air. It felt like his lungs were sticky and wet, as if they couldn’t inflate. He choked on something, large and thick, and he rolled over, spewing blood and mucus onto the floor. He coughed and hacked, his insides surely being tossed into the dirt beneath him.

_“Look, Ichigo,” Isshin began uncomfortably._

_“Hm?” Ichigo wasn’t going to make it easy. He looked up at his father inquisitively._

_“You, uh, did well today.” His father complimented._

_“Thanks.” Ichigo said with a nod, washing between his fingers and inadvertently soaking the bottom hem of his shirt. He dried off his arms, tossing the soiled rag to his father when he was finished._

_“You’re learning really fast.” Isshin continued, licking his lips after he spoke._

_“It’s not hard.” Ichigo replied, pulling his wet shirt over his head. He was young, no more than twelve years old, and still skinny enough to show every rib bone._

_“It’s not hard to be a doctor?” Isshin laughed. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”_

_“The other kids were meeting at the creek. Can I go now?” Ichigo asked, looking up at his father with wide, brown eyes._

_“Think they’re still there? It’s nearly dinnertime.” Isshin pointed out._

_“They are.” Ichigo said surely._

_“Go on then.” Isshin okayed, nodding his head from side to side. “Be back before dark.”_

_Ichigo nodded wordlessly, preparing to run off for the creek, when his father placed his hand on Ichigo’s shoulder. He squeezed gently, capturing the boy’s full attention. “Sometimes it’s hard.”_

_Ichigo laughed, easy and natural. “I know it’s hard to be a doctor, da-aad…”_

_“No,” Isshin spoke over Ichigo’s teasing tone. “Sometimes it’s just so hard to see her in you… Your face, so much like hers… When she’s no longer here…”_

_Ichigo was silent. Isshin was silent. The silence stretched on and on, uncomfortable and taut. And then, finally, Ichigo looked away, his hand tugging unconsciously at his coppery hair.  “I’ll be back before dark.”_

_Isshin cleared his throat. “Yeah. Have fun.”_

“Damn it…” Ulquiorra groaned, clutching his throat weakly. “Hurts…”

He finally managed to pull himself up onto his knees. He sat, his legs splayed to the side and beneath him, the front of him stained with mud and blood. He rubbed the outside of his throat, feeling his Adam’s apple bob beneath his touch.

His stomach rumbled threateningly and his hands dropped to his abdomen. He rubbed circles into his stomach, and despite the discomfort, he couldn’t help but be in awe of the sculpted muscles of his abs. Or the peachy skin that shone through the crusting layer of dirt and blood. And even though he felt like death, he admired the way his slender, strong legs looked sitting in that position.

_There was so much blood. It was everywhere. Splattered across the leaves and soaking into the ground. Ichigo closed his eyes, placing his hands over his ears. The poor, miserable creature wasn’t dead yet. He nearly retched. He knew what he had to do, but he didn’t know if he had the heart to do it._

_But Ichigo was kind. He put the pathetic thing out of its misery. He looked down at the carcass in disgust. He wondered what had attacked the animal. He must’ve scared the beast off in the middle of its dinner._ Such a waste, _Ichigo thought. **Snap!**_

_“Who’s there?” Ichigo asked, one hand clutching at his throat and the other curling into a fist defensively. He looked around suspiciously, the hair on the back of his neck standing up._

_“Don’t be afraid.” Those words had the opposite effect on Ichigo and he nearly bolted through the forest and back home before the other could stop him. “Wait!” Ulquiorra called out, desperation in his voice. He lurched out of the trees, a streak of white._

_He was a grown man, but petite, nearly the size of Ichigo who was still a child. He was rounder in the middle than Ichigo, more solidly built. But his small stature worked in his favor, Ichigo hesitated before inquiring, “what do you want?”_

_“What I want…?” Ulquiorra repeated the words back as if they were foreign to him._

_Ichigo looked the strange man up and down. His brown eyes narrowed, taking in all the peculiar details of the person in front of him. He screwed himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest confidently, “Yeah. Do you need help or something?”_

_“How old are you?” Ulquiorra questioned, turning from side to side to inspect the child carefully.  
Ichigo made a face before shaking his head in refusal. “Not telling.” He rolled his eyes and tilted his head to the side arrogantly. “I’ll be on my way now.”_

_“Your mother.” Ulquiorra murmured, chewing on his short, stubby fingernails. And Ichigo thought there was an unusual pinkness to his teeth and tongue._

_Ichigo’s shoulders tensed up, “My mother is…”_

_“Dead. Yes, I know.” Ulquiorra finished, relishing the wonder that filled the boy’s eyes._

_“Yeah.” Ichigo confirmed softly._

_“You two were close.” Ulquiorra continued._

_“Yeah.” Ichigo agreed. And then he grew impatient. He exhaled heavily, anger flashing across his youthfully beautiful face. “I’m on my way home. My father is expecting me. I’ll be in trouble if I’m late… So if you don’t have any business with me, then I’ll be on my way…”_

_“Would you like to see her again?” Ulquiorra breathed out, spitting a bit of torn fingernail from his mouth._

_“That sorta thing’s impossible.” Ichigo argued, his lip curling into a confused sneer._

_“No.” Ulquiorra replied. “Not for me.”_

_“It’s impossible for everyone.” Ichigo maintained._

_“I’m not like everyone.” Ulquiorra assured him, taking a step closer.  “I’m a God.”_

_“A God.” Ichigo laughed out loud. He waved his hand dismissively and began walking again. “Bye, Mister.”_

_“Ichigo Kurosaki,” Ulquiorra’s deep voice boomed. “If you walk away from me you’ll regret it for the rest of your miserable existence.”_

_Ichigo paused, a strange prickle of fear coursing through him. “How do you know my name?”_

_“I’m not human.” Ulquiorra breathed out. “I know many things.” Ulquiorra seemed to float, closing in on Ichigo who stood in shocked silence. “I already know all about you.”_

_“Prove it.” Ichigo challenged._

_Ulquiorra wasn’t expecting such a reply. He took a step back, clearly offended. He recovered, waving his hand in annoyance. “That won’t be necessary.”_

_“Why not?” Ichigo asked in amusement._

_Ulquiorra leaned forward, whispering menacingly, “Because I’ve decided to just eat you up.” Ulquiorra’s face twisted horrifically, his nose elongating into a bat-like snout. He let out a terrifying screech, his claw-like fingers grabbing at Ichigo and snatching him tightly._

_Ichigo didn’t scream. To Ulquiorra’s utter disbelief, he actually smiled. His round, boyish face split into a wide, beaming grin. “Amazing! It’s real magic! So can I really see my mother again? Is it true?”_

_Ulquiorra released Ichigo, a strange numbness weighing down his arms. He watched the child unsurely, almost uncomfortable with the child’s own willingness to accept him. Ulquiorra’s green eyes narrowed and he frowned severely. “What’s wrong with you?”_

_“What? Nothing’s wrong with me… Why?” Ichigo chattered, wringing his hands together in anticipation. “You said I could see my mother again… is that true?”_

_“Oh it’s true,” Ulquiorra spat, disappointed with the child’s fearlessness. “But it’s not easy.”_

_“Not even for someone like you?” Ichigo challenged bravely._

_Ulquiorra glowered at the boy. “You wouldn’t want me to, not really…”_

_“Yes, I do!” Ichigo insisted. “I’d give anything.”_

_“Anything?” Ulquiorra barked, eyeing the child with great interest._

_“Yes. I’d give anything to see my mother again.” Ichigo vowed._

_“What do you have that’s worth anything?” Ulquiorra questioned, circling the boy as if considering him._

_“We have money.” Ichigo replied._

_“Oh, not enough to satisfy me.” Ulquiorra said dismissively, playing the boy with much amusement._

_“My father’s a doctor and…”_

_“I don’t get sick. I don’t get hurt. That’s useless to my kind.” Ulquiorra sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose._

_“There has to be something.” Ichigo said, wracking his brain frantically._

_“Oh, there is.” Ulquiorra agreed, reaching out and placing his palm on Ichigo’s chest. “I want to eat your heart.”_

_“Eat…my…heart…?”_

_“Yes.” Ulquiorra confirmed dryly._

_“Why?” Ichigo asked, shaking his head in confusion._

_“I need someplace to put myself. Someplace safe and warm, like inside of you.”_

_“But I can’t live without my heart.” Ichigo said, his eyes wide with uncertainty._

_“You won’t need it.” Ulquiorra insisted. “I’ll put mine inside of you.”_

_“Fuck off. Who’d agree to that?” Ichigo snapped angrily._

_“You asked what I need. Well this is it,” Ulquiorra explained. “I need a body. You’ll do just as well as anyone else.”_

_“So, lemme get this straight,” Ichigo began. “I get to see my mother again and you’re going to eat my heart and do god knows what with my body?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“And you expect me to agree to this?” Ichigo asked, cocking his head to the side in disbelief._

_Ulquiorra was furious, he leaned in closely, his face pulled back in a snarl, “Agree or disagree, I have the power to kill you in an instant. What makes you so foolishly confident, little pig?”_

_Ichigo gestured to the mutilated animal on the forest floor. His brown eyes met Ulquiorra’s as he spoke, “You live off of animals in the forest. You’re hiding from people, aren’t you?” Ichigo smiled kindly. “I have a sense for these sorts of things,” Ichigo continued. “And I don’t think I’m in danger.”_

_“You’re wrong.” Ulquiorra breathed out. “You’re in grave danger.”_

_“My mother always said-”_

_“Enough.” Ulquiorra interrupted. “This is my offer, one day with your mother and in exchange, I get your body.”_

_“My body?” Ichigo asked._

_“Yes. Your body.” Ulquiorra confirmed. “You can see your mother again and it will only cost you your measly, little human body…”_

_“That means I’ll die.” Ichigo countered. “Not a good deal.”_

_“Why not? Don’t you want to see your mother?” Ulquiorra demanded._

_“I’ll see her again when I die anyway…” Ichigo claimed._

_Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. “That’s nonsense.”_

_“No deal.” Ichigo snapped._

_“Fine, then.” Ulquiorra groaned. “I will let you see your mother again, spend one whole day with her, and in exchange, after one hundred years, your body will belong to me.”_

_“One hundred years?” Ichigo let out a laugh. “I don’t think my body will be much use to you in one hundred years, Mister…”_

_“Then what are you waiting for?” Ulquiorra breathed out. “Is it a deal?”_

Ulquiorra shook his head, slapping a hand against his cheek. It was surreal, moving the body, feeling the body, _being the body_. He inhaled deeply, the scent of blood and earth was overpowering. He pushed himself to his feet at last and staggered toward the door through the pitch blackness.

Ulquiorra twisted the door handle, wiggling the tarnished metal. It was rusted shut. He groaned under his breath, putting his weight into pulling open the door. Sunlight poured inside. He shrank back with a grunt, covering his eyes with his arm in protection.

“Bright…” Ulquiorra breathed out, his voice less like a hiss than ever before. He said it again, feeling it out. “Bright…”

_“What is this?” Ichigo cried out, his fingers splaying over his face in horror._

_“It’s your mother.” Ulquiorra replied._

_“No,” Ichigo shook his head adamantly. He backed up, as far as possible, his back pressed against the wall of barn they’d hidden in. “That’s not… that’s not her…”_

_“It is.” Ulquiorra breathed out, relishing the absolute terror in the boy’s eyes._

_“Stop it!” Ichigo shouted, his youthful voice cracking. “That’s not my mother!”_

_His mother, no, that thing, straightened up suddenly, its bones cracking audibly. It tilted its head to the side, a strange clacking sound accompanying its every movement. It stared at him with cold, lifeless eyes and sucked in a rattling breath. It appeared to have finally noticed him, perhaps brought to attention by his panicked shouting._

_“I need to go home…” Ichigo breathed out, his fingers pressing into the wood behind him. He sidled toward the exit, his brown eyes wide and frightened. The thing’s eyes followed him, a foul, black liquid dripping from its mouth. “It’s getting late…”_

_“You can’t go home now.” Ulquiorra whispered. “You can’t go home ever again.”_

_“I…I shou-should p-p-pr-prob-a-bly…”_

_“We made a deal.” Ulquiorra admonished, wagging a short, white finger. “You’ve got no choice but to keep it.”_

_“That’s not my mother…” Ichigo repeated, shaking his head and slithering along the wall._

_“It is.” Ulquiorra maintained, his glowing green eyes falling upon the rotting corpse._

_Ichigo let out a frustrated cry, banging his fist against the wall. “Shut up! She’s not in there and you know it!”_

_Ulquiorra’s eyes narrowed sharply. “I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. You’re insufferable and useless…”_

_“You’re a liar!” Ichigo accused, inching closer and closer to the barn door._

_“I’m not a liar.” Ulquiorra snapped. “What have I lied about?”_

_“No deal.” Ichigo shouted before making a mad dash out the door._

_Ulquiorra sighed, his fingertips pressing into his temples. He opened his eyes again, gesturing to the hideously grotesque creature standing beside him. “Well, go on. Catch him.”_

Ulquiorra heard Ichigo scream, no, he heard himself screaming. The memory had flashed through him so quickly, but it left him breathless. He choked on air, clutching the frame of the door for support. A shiver crossed his skin, leaving gooseflesh in its path. It wasn’t his memory, but his body reacted so strongly. “Stop, Ichigo…” Ulquiorra growled, his eyes closed against the bright daylight. “It’s mine now.”

“Go ahead and die.” Ulquiorra murmured, wood splintering beneath his strong grip. “A deal’s a deal.”

_“Boy.” Ichigo looked up at his Master, blood smeared across his youthful face. “Come here.”_

_Ichigo hesitantly walked closer. Ulquiorra urged him forward. Ichigo moved another few inches. Ulquiorra beckoned him even closer. Ichigo swallowed thickly and moved to stand directly in front of his Master._

_Ulquiorra’s face twitched, his chalky-white hand brushing against Ichigo’s bruised cheek. “You’re hurt.”_

_“Yes, Master.” Ichigo admitted with a nod, rubbing his bloody face with his small fists. He sniffled, doing his best not to cry openly._

_“Those humans…” Ulquiorra said. “They did this?”_

_“Yes, Master.” Ichigo confirmed, his tongue slowly dipping down to taste blood._

_“I wonder why,” Ulquiorra chewed out the words. “You’d let them do it.”_

_“Master?” Ichigo breathed out, looking up at Ulquiorra unsurely._

_“You let them beat you, humiliate you…” Ulquiorra barked. “After I’ve given you everything you need, you still let humans…” Ulquiorra trailed off, his eyes slowly closing. He brushed his hand softly over Ichigo’s injured face, caressing the boy’s skin almost reverently. “You’re still young,” Ulquiorra decided. “But you must learn.”_

_“I’m sorry, Master.” Ichigo groaned, his stomach twisting into nervous knots._

_Ulquiorra nodded, “I know.”_

Ulquiorra pulled himself to his full height. He blinked rapidly, amazed at how quickly he had adjusted to the sunlight. He ignored his racing heart. He ignored his uneven, painful breathing. And he ignored the discomfort in the pit of his stomach. He pushed off from the doorframe of his house and started walking. It felt strange at first, like his knees were rusted and his skin was too tight, but then he was moving quickly.

Ichigo’s body was marvelous. It moved so easily. It was strong yet flexible. It was slender but masculine. And it was the most fucking brilliant color. He spun in a circle, admiring Ichigo’s body down to the light dusting of freckles on Ichigo’s shoulders- No. That was wrong. It wasn’t Ichigo’s. It was his. It was his now.

_“Ichi!”_

_Ichigo looked up and groaned, rolling his head back in exaggerated annoyance. “Leave me alone.”_

_“Uh, no.” Grimmjow breathed out, his suggestive voice tickling against Ichigo’s ear_. _“If you hate it so much, just tell me to fuck off.”_

_Ichigo smiled handsomely, “Fuck off.”_

_“Aw. That hurts me.” Grimmjow growled. “I’m wounded.”_

_Ichigo sighed, “Grimmjow, why do you? Why? I mean, what are you looking for?”_

_“Is your Master listening?” Grimmjow murmured, smirking crookedly._

_Ichigo considered before replying, “He’s sleeping.”_

_“Ah, good.” Grimmjow said simply, nodding his head. And then he lurched forward, his lips pressing against Ichigo’s. He kissed him quickly before biting down on Ichigo’s lower lip. Ichigo let out an involuntary squeak and Grimmjow finished with a deep, passionate kiss._

_“What the hell was that?” Ichigo demanded, his cheeks filling with color._

_“That? That was nothin’.” Grimmjow replied._

_Ichigo’s fingers brushed against his lips and he looked away, his cheeks darkening even further. “Then don’t do weird things.”_

_“You’re so damn innocent.” Grimmjow groaned. “It kills me.”_

_“Then just go ahead and die, asshole!” Ichigo growled, stomping ahead of Grimmjow in embarrassment._

_“Ichi…” Grimmjow drawled, chasing after the younger shifter. He grabbed for Ichigo, catching his hand. He tugged gently until Ichigo stopped walking and turned toward him. “I’m sorry.”_

_“That-“ Ichigo began to yell, but then he softened, his brown eyes meeting Grimmjow’s. “What’re you sorry for?”_

_“I’m sorry that you’re going to fall madly in love with me. And you just won’t know what to do…” Grimmjow sighed teasingly, his blue eyes flickering devilishly._

_Ichigo slapped his hand across Grimmjow’s chest and then shoved him roughly. He shook his head, his eyes closing softly, “Yeah. Like that’ll happen…”_


	28. Second-hand Diamonds

** Part XXVIII: Second-hand Diamonds  **

_"Let us not be too particular. It is better to have old second-hand diamonds than none at all."_

-Mark Twain

* * *

 

Ulquiorra slinked through the darkness and toward the house. His bare feet were nearly silent as he slipped over the grass. He approached the house, his fist raised purposefully. He knocked on the door, his knuckles beating confidently against the thick, smooth wood.

The door opened, revealing a stranger’s face. The young man was handsome with dark, curly hair and thick-lashed eyes. He smiled rather sheepishly, “The Master said someone was coming…”

Ulquiorra’s face twitched. “You’re new.”

The shifter’s smile faltered. His eyes drifted to the ground and he murmured under his breath, “I’m in my tenth year.”

“Well.” Ulquiorra barked impatiently. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yes, please do…” the shifter nearly gasped, hurriedly throwing the door open in welcome. He gestured rapidly, as if his enthusiasm could make up for his delay. “The Master is in the parlor,” the shifter explained, shutting the door behind Ulquiorra. “Follow me.”

“I can manage.” Ulquiorra barked, rolling his eyes in annoyance. But then suddenly he was in the parlor, standing in the doorway, feeling exposed.

“Murcielago,” Aizen beamed from ear to ear warmly. “Welcome…”

“It’s Ulquiorra now.”

“Ah, of course,” Aizen nodded in understanding. “And I am Aizen.” Aizen gestured to the elaborate chair across from him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ulquiorra’s cheeks filled with color. He cleared his throat before sitting down. “I was close by.”

“If I’m being honest, I must say I’m surprised,” Aizen said with a laugh. “I never thought you’d be the first of us to revive.” Aizen clicked his tongue quietly. “My money was on Wabisuke.”

“Well,” Ulquiorra retorted. “It wasn’t Wabisuke.”

“Clearly.” Aizen agreed. “And look at you. You’ve even gone a step farther.” Aizen smiled handsomely. “It’s quite the upgrade.”

Ulquiorra felt a warmth spreading through his cheeks and settling low in his belly. “I’m pleased with it.”

“Of course you’d be.” Aizen murmured, taking the cup of tea his shifter offered to him. “Tea?”

“Ah, sure.” Ulquiorra nodded, blinking rapidly. But Aizen’s words bothered him. “But wait. What do you mean by that?”

“What do you mean?” Aizen asked after a measured sip.

“What do you mean by ‘of course you’d be’?” Ulquiorra pressed.

“Don’t be offended,” Aizen said softly. “This body is absolutely beautiful. I meant what I said. You should be proud.”

“I see.” Ulquiorra murmured.

“By the way,” Aizen breathed out. “Did you realize that Hyorinmaru isn’t where he’s supposed to be?”

Ulquiorra’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t…” Ulquiorra shook his head. “I’ve been… in suspension…”

“It’s probably nothing to worry about,” Aizen drawled. “But I just thought I should mention it.” Aizen took a sip of tea. “You know, just in case…”

“Just in case what?” Ulquiorra asked.

Aizen smiled, “Oh, you know. He disappeared right around the time you revived. That’s too much to be a coincidence. If I were you,” Aizen sighed. “I might be nervous.”

Ulquiorra tugged at his high collar. He felt uncomfortably hot. He refused the tea offered to him by the shifter. He looked toward the window, not really knowing what he was looking for on the horizon.

“How does it feel?” Aizen asked curiously. “In there?”

Ulquiorra’s gaze wondered slowly around the room. He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, it was unnatural to be in such a physical condition. He cleared his throat. “It’s… uh… it’s hot.”

Aizen nodded slowly. “You look so fresh and healthy. How did you keep his body from deteriorating? It’s amazing, really…” Aizen leaned forward, his hand nearly brushing Ulquiorra’s skin. “To think a Master could live so effectively as a parasite. Sharing your body and energy with a lower life form…”

“I’m not a parasite.” Ulquiorra snapped. Aizen sat back with a smile. Ulquiorra’s brow knit together in irritation. “This body is mine.”

“No offense.” Aizen sighed, lifting his hand in a halting gesture. “I meant it, it’s amazing.”

“This body is mine now.” Ulquiorra said firmly. “I’m not sharing anything.”

“I understand.” Aizen said with a nod. And then he smiled again, handsomely. “So, I’ll ask again. How does it feel?”

“It feels…” Ulquiorra murmured. He closed his eyes, deep in thought, and inhaled. “It feels good.”

* * *

 

“It hurts…” Ulquiorra spat, doubled over. His arms tightened around his stomach and he retched blood and sick across the grass. He growled in frustration, his nails scraping against the inside of his thighs. “Fuck off. Fuck you. Go away!”

He straightened up, looking around the empty clearing as if he expected someone else to be there. He muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth. The pain was intense. He wasn’t used to feeling so much, all the time. He tried to walk it off only to end up retching into the grass a few hundred yards down.

Ulquiorra spit into the grass several times before standing up again. He wiped his mouth with his arm before suddenly biting down roughly on his own arm. His teeth sank into his forearm, blood dripping down his skin and into his mouth. He yanked his head from side to side like a dog. He released his arm and rolled back his head, his teeth stained pink and his face smeared with his own blood. “Just die already,” Ulquiorra breathed out. “You’re not needed here.”

* * *

 

“Hungry?”

Ulquiorra looked up, his eyes narrowing immediately. “What?”

The man smiled warmly, “I asked if ya were hungry?” Ulquiorra’s face turned upward in refusal. The man chuckled. “I have a boy your age back home.” The man explained, plopping down on the ground next to Ulquiorra. “He’s probably twice as wide as ya though…”

Ulquiorra blinked disinterestedly. The man didn’t sense Ulquiorra’s detachment or  his own danger and continued chattering on merrily. He broke his loaf of bread into two pieces and handed one half to Ulquiorra. “Are you travelling alone?”

Ulquiorra stared down at the bread in his hand and an eerie smile spread across his face. He opened his mouth and spoke with Ichigo’s perfectly honeyed voice, “Yes. I’m alone…”

“That’s rough.” The man said with a nod. “I know how hard it is for me and I-”

“Run.” Ulquiorra breathed out, his finger pressing against the man’s curved lips. “Run away from me.”

“I don’t…” the man whispered uneasily.

But Ulquiorra could only sit in stunned silence, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as if it might burst. He clutched at his chest in agony, his words and thoughts falling over themselves in a jumbled, incoherent mess. He hadn’t been the one who spoke. He hadn’t, wouldn’t have, ever touched that human man so easily… “No… No…. no no no no no!” Ulquiorra shouted.

The man scrambled away, sparing a single glance behind him as he ran off. Ulquiorra stood, crushing the bread between his fingers. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare do such a thing, Ichigo!”

“I’ll kill you! Just die!” Ulquiorra seethed.  “This isn’t fair! You can’t act this way!”

Ulquiorra grew quiet. He was highly emotional. It was not typical of him to react in such a way. He curled his hands into fists at his side and took several deep, calming breaths. He wouldn’t act so irrational. He was a Xibalban. He was in charge. He had the body. Ulquiorra nodded calmly before taking a huge bite of the smashed bread in his fist.

“I’m not feeling myself.” Ulquiorra spoke aloud to himself. “But this is temporary.”

* * *

_"It was a question I had worn on my lips for days - like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn't resist pulling - despite knowing it could all unravel around me.  
“Do you love me?" I ask.  
In your hesitation I found my answer."_    
— Lang Leav, _Love & Misadventure_

* * *

 

“Mister Jaegerjaquez! Such a pleasure! Always a pleasure, my dear old friend…”

“Kisuke,” Grimmjow said the name like a curse. He kicked out in anger, his hands resting on his hips. “They sent you?”

“Oh, come on now,” Urahara drawled. “Aren’t you glad to see me? I’m glad to see you.”

“I don’t have time to play around.” Grimmjow roared. “I need to talk to the Council!”

“Well, I’m on the Council…” Urahara pointed out.

Grimmjow shook his head. “Nah. I need to talk to someone who can help me.”

Urahara narrowed his eyes, but his voice remained light and casual. “Try me.”

“You’re not understanding me.” Grimmjow nearly shouted. “Like I told this fucker over here,” Grimmjow gestured to the guard. “I need to talk to somebody who can make decisions!”

“Well, that’s…”

“You can feel it too, right?” Grimmjow demanded. “Ulquiorra’s back. And I know… I know what I felt… I know Ichigo’s alive…” Grimmjow’s voice dropped low and quiet. “He’s alive.”

“I hate to sound like an old guy, but,” Urahara sighed. “That’s impossible.”

“I need to speak to someone in charge.” Grimmjow maintained.

Urahara fanned himself, “Oh-ho. You’ve changed your wording.”

“Are you in charge?” Grimmjow spat, his golden skin visibly blanching.

Urahara stammered on his response, his eyes diverted from Grimmjow’s. “It came to a vote, Grimmjow. There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“Unless I can’t count,” Grimmjow snarled. “Then the vote should’ve come out to a tie…” Grimmjow lunged forward, his hand twisting the collar of Urahara’s shirt. “How’d the vote turn out, Kisuke?”

“Well…”

“What was the fuckin’ vote, Kisuke?!” Grimmjow demanded.

“Two to two.” Urahara replied, removing Grimmjow’s forceful grip from his clothes.

“Then I’m the tie breaker.” Grimmjow spit.

“Well, about that…” Urahara breathed out. “You refused a position on the Council… In no uncertain terms…”

“Fuck that.” Grimmjow murmured lowly. “There’d be no Council if it weren’t for me.”

“Very true,” Urahara said cheerfully. “And we honor you and your wisdom every day.”

“Who’s the tie-breaker?” Grimmjow questioned, his fingers morphing into claws.

“Well…” Urahara dragged out.

Grimmjow snarled inhumanely, a big cat cry ripping from his throat, “Tell me!”

“Hitsugaya is the tie-breaker, but…”

“Hitsugaya voted against…!” Grimmjow couldn’t even finish the thought before he choked.

“No.” Urahara interjected firmly. “He hasn’t voted yet.”

“What?!”

Urahara cleared his throat, “He’s not here.”

“Where is he?” Grimmjow demanded.

“Don’t know.” Urahara replied with a shrug. “He’s been missing for days.”

“He’s missing?” Grimmjow shook his head. He didn’t know if he understood what that meant or if he cared or if it was even important.

“Hitsugaya’s the tie-breaker?” Grimmjow asked for clarification.

“Yes.”

“And he hasn’t voted yet?”

“No.”

“But no one knows where he is?”

“That’s right.”

“What about Komamura?”

Urahara sighed heavily, “He’s not here either.”

Grimmjow cursed loudly, spewing a string of incoherent expletives together. “Then find a fuckin’ different tie-breaker. It ain’t that hard!”

“You say that, but…”

“I want on the Council.” Grimmjow barked.

“Now?” Urahara asked, arching a brow.

“Right fuckin’ now.” Grimmjow shouted. “And I want a vote.”

“I don’t mind, but what exactly is going to be my selling point to Yamamoto and Unohana?” Urahara asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“I’ll make it simple.” Grimmjow breathed out. “I get a seat on the Council and I won’t fucking kill every single last one of you.”

“Well, I’m convinced.” Urahara said with a smile. “Follow me.”

“You’re letting me in?” Grimmjow asked in surprise.

Urahara nodded, “Of course. Aren’t you holding me hostage to get what you want?”

“Will that work?” Grimmjow asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Not if you stay out here.” Urahara beamed, his grey eyes settling on Grimmjow. “That won’t be very convincing…”

* * *

 

“Now listen carefully.” Shinji breathed, snapping his fingers in Grimmjow’s face. “Let’s review the plan…”

“I got it!” Grimmjow spat.

Urahara and Shinji shared a knowing look, Urahara cooed, “Uh oh. He doesn’t _got_ it.”

“Nope.” Shinji groaned, shaking his head.

“Mr. Jaegerjaquez, listen to me… Listen… this is important…” Urahara spoke loudly, as if to a person hard of hearing. “If you can’t follow directions, you’ll just…”

“Too wordy.” Shinji snapped, his arm lifted beside his head. “Keep it simple for stupid.”

“I’m no-t-” Grimmjow’s words died sharply in his throat. Shinji’s fist knocked roughly against his jaw, sending him spinning in a tight circle. He twisted unnaturally, almost comically, before drooping unconscious to the floor.

Urahara turned ever-so-slowly to face Shinji. He arched a pale brow, his lip and cheek twitching. “What? We ain’t got time for this.” Shinji explained with a shrug. Urahara said nothing, his grey eyes boring into Shinji pointedly. “He never would’a followed the plan…” Shinji continued defensively, rubbing his bloodied knuckles absently against his shirt.

Urahara was still silent, his shadowed face peering at Shinji. Shinji clicked his tongue, throwing his hand up in surrender. “Alright, alright… My bad…” Shinji caved in. “I ain’t sayin’ sorry, but I am sayin’ my bad…”

Urahara flicked his fingers sharply against Shinji’s forehead. “Mr. Hirako, I’ll get you back later.”

“Of course, darlin’.” Shinji drawled, smirking wide.

“And you won’t like it.” Urahara breathed out, straightening up.

“I’ll say ‘no’ as much as you want me to.” Shinji teased.

“Be useful.” Urahara instructed sharply. “Take Mr. Jaegerjaquez to his room.”

“Shouldn’t we keep an eye on him?” Shinji questioned.

Urahara smiled, tapping his temple pointedly. “I’ll do the thinking around here, if ya don’t mind.”

“Nah. Go ahead.” Shinji murmured, picking his neat, straight teeth with a long fingernail.

“Fabulous,” Urahara said, clapping his hands together. “Take him to his rooms. I’ll head to the throne room.”

“And I’ll meet you there when I’m finished.” Shinji replied, hoisting Grimmjow onto his knee and then over his shoulder.

“But first…” Urahara hesitated. “Send a message to Komamura.”

Shinji’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded, “Uh huh.”

“Tell him to hurry on back home.” Urahara said cheerily. “Us shifters are being stupid again.”

* * *

“Are you alright?”

Ulquiorra looked up at the tavern wench. She had a round face, with high apple cheeks, and an annoyingly upturned, little nose. Her hazel eyes were filled with concern. She reached out her hand, her short, thin fingers brushing against his skin. “You’re just burning up.”

“I’m fine.” Ulquiorra finally managed, his trembling hand crushing the worn, bronze spoon between his fingers. He slammed the broken spoon down on the table with a grunt, grabbing his bowl and drinking from it hungrily. His arms shook, sloshing soup down the front of him and soaking into his clothes.

The young woman clicked her tongue. “You’re poorly.”

“I said,” Ulquiorra snarled, shooting her a warning glance. “I’m fine.”

“You’re very fair.” The woman continued, undeterred. “I can see the fever in your face.” She spooned another steaming ladle of soup into his bowl. “Try and eat. And then upstairs you go for some rest.”

“I’m not staying for the night.” Ulquiorra barked.

The young woman shook her head in refusal. “It ain’t much, but we’ve got an empty room. Take it.” She turned away, shaking her head. “If you don’t rest here, you’ll end up dead in a gutter before long.”

Ulquiorra wanted to argue. He wished to berate the woman for her stupidity and insolence. But he said nothing. He knew, in a way, that she was right. He needed to rest and he had absolutely nowhere to go. He nodded slowly, even though she was already on the other side of the tavern, serving her other guests.

“Have enough?”

“Yes.”

“Right then, up you get.” The young woman instructed. “Follow me.”

Ulquiorra stood, wobbling and weak on his feet. He felt light headed and tingly all over. And then he fainted. His head struck the corner of the table, blood spurting grotesquely from above his eye. He rolled to the floor, his head smacking against the ground. The woman screamed in shock, many men gasping. The man beside him stood, his chair scraping noisily. He lifted the slight man in his arms and carried him kindly to his borrowed room.

“Where am I?” He asked, blinking against the candlelight.

The man looked down at the ginger-haired man and replied, “A tavern in Sais.”

“You’ve fainted.” The woman explained gently. “You’re burning to the touch.” She looked around unsurely. “I’d call for the doctor, but I take it you don’t have much money…”

“I…” he rubbed the side of his head, blood staining his fingertips. He struggled against the man’s hold, fighting to his feet. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” the woman called out.

But Ichigo was already rushing down the hall. He pressed his fingers against the wound on his head. If he was human, he’d need stitches. The wound buzzed, like it had a heartbeat of its own. He licked his lips and touched the wound, pricking his fingernails against the puncture.

“Fuck.” Ichigo breathed out. He stood motionless, the wide expanse of desert sprawled out before him. There was nothing to be seen for miles and miles except rolling dunes of sand.

Ichigo closed his eyes. His mind was a whirring, chaotic mess. Every bit of doubt and self-loathing and insecurity seemed amplified, as if every single grain of sand was another thing he couldn’t do. He swallowed thickly, his eyes opening with resolve. “I’m sorry, Master.” Ichigo whispered. “But I can’t just lie down and take it.”


	29. Be the Flame

** Part XXIX: Be the Flame **

_"Be the flame, not the moth."  
_ — Giacomo Casanova

* * *

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Urahara.” Yamamoto sighed. He brushed his hand over his maintained beard, smoothing down the hair neatly. “We can’t let a hostile Master into the palace. Especially not with Hitsugaya gone…”

“Possession is fatal.” Unohana added, her heavy-lidded eyes blinking slowly. “There’s nothing to be done anyway.”

“Listen, listen,” Urahara chimed in, his head tilting to the side. He smiled handsomely, his round cheeks filling with angry color. “Possession _has_ always been fatal. But what if we can change that?”

“That’s impossible.” Yamamoto declared instantly.

“Science is capable of amazing things. And my understanding of it is still so infantile…” Urahara said quickly, his hands pressing together anxiously. “There has to be something we can do. And if not…” Urahara’s face darkened. “Then perhaps we can find out how to kill a Master.”

“Kill a Master?” Unohana guffawed. “That’s impossible.”

“I keep hearing that word…” Urahara drawled. “And it just makes me want to prove you wrong that much more.”

“It isn’t a reflection of you, Kisuke.” Yamamoto said. “Some things are just truly beyond the realm of possibility.”

Urahara’s cheek twitched, his smile quivering. He nodded his head and sighed heavily. “Jaegerjaquez’s here.”

“Again?” Unohana groaned, her hands tossed into the air.

“He wants a vote.”

“He’s not on the Council.” Yamamoto barked.

“He should be.” Urahara breathed. “And you know it.”

“It’s too dangerous to allow such a creature to come.” Yamamoto shouted, banging his walking stick against the marbled floor. “There’s too much at risk here!”

“It’s an unfair risk to the weaker shifters.” Unohana added.

“It’s terribly dangerous, I’m not stupid, I know this,” Urahara snapped, growing irritated. “But with Jaegerjaquez here, he can take the risk himself.”

“Him?” Unohana narrowed her eyes doubtfully.

“What about him?” Urahara asked with a smile. “He’s stronger than all of us combined.”

“Of course he’s strong…” Unohana scoffed. “But he’s selfish and childish. Do you think him capable of fighting a Master? Or do you think it more likely that he’d run away to save himself?” Urahara hesitated, struggling to find words. Unohana took the silence as confirmation and nodded. “He’s just too unreliable.”

“You realize, of course, that this decision will only reinforce Jaegerjaquez as our enemy?” Urahara drawled. “Are you sure you want that?”

“Our decision isn’t about Jaegerjaquez. It’s about the possessed shifter and his Master.”

“Jaegerjaquez won’t see it that way.” Urahara insisted.

“He’ll come around eventually.” Yamamoto sighed.

“Doubt it.” Grimmjow barked, rapping his hand against the frame of the door.

“Oh, you’re awake…” Urahara beamed. “Good morning.”

Grimmjow rubbed his jaw, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah. I’m up. Where is that jackass anyway?”

“He should be back anytime now.” Urahara replied with a smile.

“Listen,” Grimmjow snarled, rolling his head from side to side. “I’ve always told ya that I wouldn’t interfere with the Council’s vote. And I haven’t.” Grimmjow closed the space between him and Yamamoto. “And I won’t.”

“That’s good to hear.” Yamamoto said with a nod.

“That’s why I want a vote.” Grimmjow said, folding his arms over his chest.

Urahara smiled, watching Grimmjow with interest. Yamamoto and Unohana exchanged looks. Neither looked happy. Shinji cleared his throat as he stepped into the room. “Did I miss anything?”

“I’m about to cast my vote.” Grimmjow breathed out. “Or I’m about to kill everyone in this room. The choice belongs to you.”

“You think you’ll get far by threatening us?” Yamamoto snapped.

Grimmjow grinned. “Bein’ nice and sincere didn’t work the first hundred times.”

“Have ya ever been ‘nice and sincere’?” Shinji asked.

“You’ve no idea how nice I’m being…” Grimmjow threatened.

“I vote to give him a seat on the Council.” Urahara interjected.

“Me too.” Shinji added with a smile.

“That’s two for yes, and two for no…” Unohana declared, folding her hands in her lap. “Unfortunately, the tie-breaker is-”

“As it so happens,” Shinji beamed. He pulled a piece of parchment from his jacket, snapping it pointedly. “I’ve got the tie-breaker vote right here.”

“You spoke with Hitsugaya?” Yamamoto asked, his brow furrowed.

“I didn’t.” Shinji shook his head. “I spoke with Komamura.”

Shinji passed the paper to Yamamoto, casting a long glance at Urahara. “He said, ‘yes’.”

“Perfect. Just lovely. That’s settled.” Urahara chimed, rubbing his hands together. “Which brings us back to the original vote. In regards to the Master Ulquiorra and his shifter Ichigo Kurosaki, are we going to offer our assistance?”

“Aye.” Shinji interjected.

“Nay.” Unohana replied, her lips held tightly. “Regretfully.”

“It’s not personal.” Yamamoto sighed. “Nay.”

“Aye.” Urahara said, raising his hand.

“Fuckin’ Aye.” Grimmjow exclaimed. “The Council voted. Come on. Go do your thing…”

“That’s not how the Council works, Grimmjow,” Unohana explained. “We must come up with a plan. We must be patient and… and where are you going?”

“Ya’ll think of some plan.” Grimmjow instructed, walking from the throne room. “I’ll go get ‘im and bring ‘im back here.”

“No.” Urahara snapped, causing Grimmjow to abruptly pause.

“Whaddaya mean?” Grimmjow asked, narrowing his eyes unsurely.

“He has to get here on his own.” Urahara explained.

“You said you’d help…” Grimmjow began to panic.

“And I will,” Urahara interrupted softly. “I will do everything in my power to help. I don’t know how to save him. At all. No clue, actually, but I do know that if he doesn’t walk in here on his own two feet, no matter what I do, it won’t work.”

Grimmjow was silent, his back to the others. He tried to absorb what Urahara was saying but he just couldn’t. He shook his head unsurely.

Urahara understood, adding, “He has to want to be saved. There has to be a shifter still left inside…”

“There is.” Grimmjow promised. “I know there is.”

“Let’s hope so.” Shinji said. “Because that Master’s gonna be really fuckin’ pissed we’re tryin’ ta get rid’o’ ‘im.”

“If the Master has taken over,” Yamamoto addressed the room. “We _will_ have to kill them both.”

“You understand, right?” Unohana asked gently.

Grimmjow scoffed. He hated that condescending bitch. He turned and spat loudly, his nose upturned. “If the shifter is dead, I’ll kill that Master myself. And that’s a fucking promise.”

* * *

“What are you doing?”  Ulquiorra growled, pulling himself from the road. Ulquiorra toppled over, rolling into the brush with a cry. He struggled to his feet, his hands pinned unnaturally at his side.

_“I don’t want to die.”_ Ichigo choked out.

“We made a fucking deal!” Ulquiorra screamed, spit flying past his teeth.

_“I don’t care!”_ Ichigo screamed back, flinging his body back to the rocky ground. He reached out, grabbing a rock, and smashed it into his skull. There was a sickening thud and blood poured down his face. Ulquiorra didn’t answer. Ichigo seethed. He pulled himself back to his feet. He looked around the empty road and spit a mouthful of blood into the dirt. “Fuck you.”

“You know, you never let me live my own life…” Ichigo groaned, limping down the road. “There were things I wanted to do.” He stumbled slightly over the uneven ground. “It’s only fair that I’m still here.” Ichigo laughed humorlessly. “It’s divine retribution.” Ichigo shook his head, the pain in his head reaching his teeth. “Maybe I’m haunting you…” Ichigo murmured to himself. “I don’t know… I just… I just don’t want to die like this.”

* * *

 

“Pacin’ isn’t gonna make ‘im get here any faster…” Shinji said gently.

Grimmjow looked up, his lip held between his teeth. He chewed on the peeling skin in silence before nodding. “Yeah.”

“Ya should come inside.” Shinji offered. “Kisuke’s workin’ on some giant contraption and he could use the muscle.”

“He stopped.” Grimmjow blurted out, rubbing his hands roughly through the back of his messy hair. “I don’t know why. But he just stopped…”

“There could be a million reasons.” Shinji replied, crossing one lithe leg over the other.

“He was coming this way.” Grimmjow continued, still chewing on the loose skin of his lip.

“How d’ya know?” Shinji asked, his brown eyes narrowed curiously.

“I just do.” Grimmjow snapped, white fur sprouted from his neck in a ridge. He shuddered, smoothing his hands over his transforming skin, rubbing it until it settled back to his human form.

“I’m gonna go help Kisuke.” Shinji said, turning back toward the palace. “Ya comin’?”

“Yeah,” Grimmjow nodded, watching the horizon with yearning. “I’ll be right there.”

* * *

 

“I can’t believe how selfish you are.” Ulquiorra grunted, hammering nails through the slat of wood. He wriggled the piece, making sure it was secured into place. He bumped into the door repeatedly, pleased that he seemed to be barricaded for the time being. “We’re just going to sit here for a while…” Ulquiorra growled, looking around the dilapidated shack.

Ulquiorra dropped into a low squat, the door pressing into his spine. He looked down at the nails between his feet. He swirled the hammer through the dirt, upsetting the tiny slivers of metal. He knew that he was being emotional. He knew that he was panicking, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was so shaken by the shifter’s defiance…

“You dare to treat me in such a way…” Ulquiorra admonished, growing annoyed that the shifter didn’t respond. Ulquiorra smacked the hammer against the ground in anger. “Does my conversation bore you? I’m speaking to you! Say something this instant!”

“ _Resting…”_ Ichigo finally managed to say, minutes later.

“You’re resting?” Ulquiorra scoffed, shaking his head in uncertainty. “Just go ahead and die.”

_“Won’t…”_

“Stop talking!” Ulquiorra barked. “You’re dead. Leave me alone.”

Ulquiorra’s hand froze, the head of the hammer sending a cloud of dust up into his face. He looked down at his arm, willing it to move. He clicked his tongue, closing his eyes. He moved to stand but was unable. “Stop.”

“Stop!” Ulquiorra screeched, his voice strained and foreign sounding to his ears.

“It’s mine.” Ulquiorra howled. “It’s mine! Stop it now! I’ll fucking kill you- y-” Ulquiorra’s tirade ended curtly as the hammer connected with his skull. One eye rolled, the other open and unseeing. The weight of the hammer yanked his arm down to the ground with a thud, his fingers wrapped around it in a death grip.

Ichigo stood slowly, the bloodied hammer, sticky with blood and hair, slipped past his fingers. Ichigo retched violently. He held his stomach with one arm and his head with his other hand. He thought it possible that his brain might spill across the ground. He finally finished, straightening up sluggishly. He yanked the boards down from across the door and stepped outside into the fresh, early morning air.

Ichigo inhaled the sweet air and erupted into laughter. It was ludicrous. The very idea of it. He couldn’t help but laugh at the entire situation. He couldn’t contain his delight at the thought of his Master’s suffering. His Master called him selfish. Him. Selfish. Ichigo snickered deliriously, holding his bleeding head.

 “You can’t use your magic… at least not right now…” Ichigo breathed out, walking quickly. “And you can’t kill me.” Ichigo shook his head. “You have no friends.” Ichigo began to jog, dropping his hand from his broken skull. “What do you even need my body for? What’s the point?” Ichigo ran full out. His body was slowing down. And it was nearly impossible to control it, even with Ulquiorra unconscious. He didn’t have much time left. “If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”

* * *

 

“What the fuck is this?” Grimmjow barked, dropping the smooth stone column back to the floor. “It’s the heaviest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.” He paced the floor, his hands pressing against his lower back.

“Yeah. It is heavy…” Shinji grunted, his eyes cut in annoyance. “Ya should warn me before ya drop yer end.”

Grimmjow nodded, acknowledging Shinji’s complaint as valid. He rubbed his back as he turned to Urahara. “Where did you get these? Who made ‘em? Ask them to carry ‘em for ya.”

“Should I tell both of you strapping men that Hitsugaya brought them to me by himself?” Urahara mused, cocking an eyebrow.

“Fuck he did.” Shinji murmured, shaking his head in refusal.

“Oh, but he did.” Urahara replied with a smile. “He carried all four on his own.”

“What the hell are these for anyway?” Grimmjow asked, sitting down on the dropped column. He brushed his hand over the smooth surface, amazed by the craftsmanship.

“In theory,” Urahara began excitedly, scribbling on a piece of parchment in front of him. “These stones should be able to isolate a Master from his shifter…” Urahara dropped his pen to his side, looking from Grimmjow to Shinji emphatically. “You see, the molecules that form this stone are the purest atoms. I mean, true atoms. I simply cannot cut it. No matter what I do. It’s as if the entire thing is-”

“Stop.” Grimmjow interrupted, lifting his hand in a halting gesture. “Just stop.”

“An atom can’t be cut you see, that’s why it’s called an atom off of the-”

“I’m with Grimmjow.” Shinji sighed. “Stop.”

“I’ve got a theory.” Grimmjow said, standing. “Three people lifting makes the load lighter.”

“You can ask one of the guards.” Urahara offered, tapping his parchment against his chest. “I’ve got my hands full.”

Grimmjow remembered something from a long time ago, and he nodded his head, “Oh, yeah. I forgot. You don’t do heavy lifting…” Grimmjow shook his head, amazed that he had forgotten something so important about the other shifter. The memory jiggled in the corner of his mind, not quite remembered but not fully forgotten.

“No.” Urahara replied with a smile.

“Hey, Jackass, go get a couple people to help us carry these things.” Grimmjow instructed.

“You’re so clever.” Shinji groaned, rolling his eyes.

* * *

Ulquiorra kneeled beside the road. He closed his eyes, his head swimming. He was too nauseated to even lift his head. He swallowed a throat-full of acidic mucus, his hand pressed against his stomach in anticipation.

“What’s the matter with you, kid?”

Ulquiorra looked up at the two approaching men weakly. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted. A woman carrying a child rushed up, one hand pressing against her mouth in dismay, “Oh, Nikil, he’s bleeding…”

“Stay back, dear,” the younger of the men murmured, placing his hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“Bandits?” the older man asked, narrowing his dark eyes. He looked around suspiciously, his hand drifting to the weapon obscured by his waistband.

“Do you have water?” Ulquiorra asked, doing his best to keep his voice light and polite. Ichigo’s voice had a much more charming quality than his own. It was almost easy to sound innocent and unassuming.

“Mariam, get the water…”

“Ah. Yes.” The woman replied, rushing back toward their caravan.

“Are you alright?” the older man asked, kneeling beside Ulquiorra while still maintaining his distance.

“Water!” Ulquiorra hissed impatiently. He recovered quickly, smoothing his hands over his short hair. “Sorry, I…”

“No need to apologize.” The man muttered, looking off in the distance toward the slow approaching caravan. “The heat gets to us all.”

“You’re hurt.” The younger man, Nikil, breathed out. He leaned over Ulquiorra to inspect him. He took a step back, his face peeling back in disgust. “It appears…” He shook his head in refusal, covering his mouth with his hand.

“What is it?” the other man demanded.

Nikil looked as if he refused to answer, but eventually he spoke. “There is an object… protruding from his head… It is… lodged… in his…” Nikil blanched. He turned away from Ulquiorra. His hands rubbed together, twisting anxiously. “It appears there is…”

“What?!” the older man demanded.

“There is something sticking into his brain.” Nikil finally finished, shaking his head emphatically.

“Impossible.” The older man whispered. “Let me look.”

The older man inspected Ulquiorra’s head for no more than a minute before he turned away, rushing to the side to retch onto the rocky ground. He looked toward Nikil, his dark eyes wide with horror, “We must remove it… It’ll become infected…”

“We should wait for Bibbi.” Nikil suggested, looking anywhere but at Ulquiorra.

“Is it bad?” Ulquiorra questioned, reaching his fingers up to the side of his head.

“Don’t touch!” both mean shouted at once.

Ulquiorra felt it. A thin piece of metal had been rammed through his skull. His finger brushed the object and his entire body tingled with fire. He closed his eyes and inhaled shallowly. “You fucking stupid pig…” Ulquiorra cursed, his hand trembling as he lowered it. It was as if knowing the thing was there was enough to magnify the pain a thousand fold.

“Lie down.” Nikil instructed. “Rest.”

“Perhaps if he sleeps,” the older man whispered, speaking in his tribal language, “He just won’t wake up. _Inshallah_.”

“Inshallah.” The other murmured in solemn agreement.

“Let us make him comfortable.” The older man instructed, watching two of his kin approaching with water.

Ulquiorra wondered how impossibly stupid humans were. Here he was, wounded terribly; if he was human, he’d be dead. But still, these foolish, little humans busied themselves with his comfort. They laid him down on a clean blanket, rolling another beneath his head. Women fussed over him, washing his head and face with cold water. A young girl ladled water into his mouth while a boy removed his shoes. And for what?

Stupid, stupid humans…

“Let me see…” a weathered old woman barked, shooing everyone away.

“Should we remove it?” Another asked, whispering from around her brother’s back.

The old woman pressed her hands together, mumbling under her breath. “Child,” she crowed. “Have you made peace with the world?”

“What?” Ulquiorra snapped, his eyes narrowing.

She placed a calloused hand on his smooth cheek. She smiled kindly, her warm, brown eyes searching Ulquiorra’s. “Who did such a thing to you? Do you want revenge?”

“Revenge?” Ulquiorra mulled over the word slowly.

“Just rest, child,” the old woman instructed. “Close your eyes. Think of happy things…”

And then she yanked the metal piece from his skull. She pressed her hands against his head, squeezing it together as if denying the course of nature. Blood spurted from his wound and then poured, with no end, between her fingers and into the blanket beneath him.

“Red…hair…?” the old woman’s eyes bulged, she stared at the lifeless form beneath her. She stroked his hair, rubbing it until she could see the color. “Copper red hair… it can’t be…”

Ichigo twitched, his eyes blinking slowly. He placed his right hand against her left and clasped it gently. Her eyes widened in shock, her thin lips quivering. He smiled weakly, his skin turning a morbid shade of purple. “Thank you.”

“How…?”

Ichigo sat up. He grabbed his shoes and slid them on his feet. He was covered with dried and fresh blood. It seemed every inch of him was smeared with scarlet. He looked around at the large caravan, meeting many sets of terrified, anxious eyes.

“Thank you for your kindness.” Ichigo said, nodding his throbbing head. “May I ask for more?”

“What is it?” Nikil asked.

“Tell me,” Ichigo breathed out weakly. “Which way to Mesopotamia?”

The caravan all looked at one another in astonishment. Finally the old woman turned, pointing a crooked finger to the east. “You’re nearly there.”

Ichigo nodded, his lips pursed together. He wiped his face with his hands, staining his fingers with blood. “That’s wonderful news.” Ichigo stumbled toward the road, his ankles twisting weakly over the rocky terrain.

“You should rest.”

“I can’t.” Ichigo called over his shoulder. “I haven’t much time.”

“Ichigo, is that you?” the old woman asked.

Ichigo stopped cold in his tracks. He turned around, looking the woman up and down. “How do you…?” Ichigo trailed off shaking his head.

“Fatima!” the old woman barked. “A camel!”

“How do you know my name?” Ichigo questioned, looking from the old woman to the group of people readying a camel.

“Someone is waiting for you.” the old woman replied, placing her thumb in the center of Ichigo’s forehead.

“What? Who?” Ichigo furrowed his brows in confusion.

“You don’t have much time.” The old woman breathed, ushering Ichigo to the camel. “He has water?” she questioned a young boy.

“Yes.”

“Food?”

“Yes.”

“Help him up.”

“Wait…” Ichigo groaned as he was hoisted onto the camel’s saddle.

“There is no time.” The old woman said dismissively.

“Do I know you?” Ichigo pressed, locking eyes with the woman.

“No.” She answered with a smile. “But my old Master is a friend of a friend.”

“Master? You’re a shifter?” Ichigo looked at the woman in absolute bewilderment. “Who’s your Master?”

“I was a shifter, when I was a much younger woman. My Master goes by many names, best of all, my friend,” the woman replied. “But he was very insistent that if you were found that you’d need to hurry…”

“A friend of a friend…” Ichigo called out, his camel walking. “Who’s that?”

“Safe travels, young shifter.” The woman said simply. “Don’t give up.”


	30. Limb from Limb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits and Notes: Nursery Rhymes credited to Mother Goose and Gammer Gurton’s Garland. Obviously, post-Renaissance era nursery rhymes were nonexistent in the days between Ancient Egypt and Ancient Greece’s reign. Unfortunately for me, it is impossible to find the historically accurate equivalent since the common people of the world didn’t read or write. Please enjoy.

 

** Part XXX: Limb from Limb **

_"I am Envy...I cannot read and therefore wish all books burned."  
_ — Christopher Marlowe

* * *

 

“He’s coming…”

“Ya mentioned that already.” Shinji replied, rolling his brown eyes. “Oh, every fifteen minutes or so for two fuckin’ days now…”

“He’s close this time.”

Urahara peeked out from under his arm, his grey eyes scanning back and forth unseeingly, “Ah, yes, I can pick up his scent now…”

Shinji straightened up on Urahara’s bed, his clothes pulling taut against his slender form. His hands dropped to his sides, his knuckles dragging across the floor. “I…” Shinji inhaled deeply. “I don’t sense a shifter.”

“Pay more attention,” Grimmjow snapped. “He’s there.”

Urahara and Shinji exchanged wary looks. Urahara stood, pacing the floor as he fanned himself. “He’s so close.”

“I’m catching that scent.” Shinji pressed, his lips tight. “But I don’t sense a shifter.”

Urahara spared a glance toward Grimmjow before turning to face Shinji, “He’s coming this way, regardless.”

“Someone should go check,” Shinji suggested pointedly. He licked his lips, anger and frustration apparent on his handsome face. “Before Yamamoto and Unohana intercept him.”

“What?” Grimmjow asked, looking from Urahara to Shinji in confusion.

Urahara smiled tightly while Shinji stayed silent. Eventually, Urahara had to answer, “Mr. Hirako here is right… It’s not a shifter that’s coming this way…” Urahara leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. He looked somber, serious; it was an odd expression on his usually animated face. “We’ll have to do something.”

“I’m going out there,” Grimmjow breathed, already out the door and down the hall.

“Rock, paper, scissors, who has to go with him?” Urahara proposed, smiling sadly at Shinji.

“I’ll go.” Shinji offered. He stood up, his fingertips brushing against Urahara’s as he passed. “You know you shouldn’t leave the palace.”

* * *

 

_“Baby, baby, naughty baby,”_ Ulquiorra sang quietly, his fingers swirling through the pool of warm crimson. _“Hush, you squalling thing, I say.”_  
_“Peace this moment, peace, or maybe,”_ Ulquiorra’s song became unintelligible as he scooped the raw, bloodied flesh into his mouth. “- _will pass this way.”_  
“ _Baby, baby, he's a giant,”_  Ulquiorra chanted, blood oozing from the corners of his mouth. _“Tall and black as_ something,” Ulquiorra murmured unsurely. _“steeple,_  
_And he breakfasts, dines, rely on't,_  
_Every day on naughty people.”_  
_“Baby, baby, if he hears you_  
_As he gallops past the house,_  
_Limb from limb at once he'll tear you,”_ Ulquiorra crooned, tearing viciously into his meal.   
_“Just as pussy tears a mouse.”_  
_“And he'll beat you, beat you, beat you,”_ Ulquiorra continued, mashing the meat between his sharp, pointed teeth.   
_“And he'll beat you into pap,”_ Ulquiorra sang around a mouthful of food.   
_“And he'll eat you, eat you, eat you,”_ Ulquiorra intoned, tearing a leg from the human corpse in front of him. The cartilage and sinew was difficult to tear and he struggled mightily before succeeding, ripping the child’s body apart with an audible tear.   
_“Every morsel snap, snap, snap.”_

_“A man of words and not of deeds,”_ Ulquiorra started another song, chewing rudely.   
_“Is like a garden full of weeds,”_  
_“And when the weeds begin to grow_  
_It's like a garden full of snow,”_ Ulquiorra continued, his sharp teeth stained pink.   
“ _And when the snow begins to fall_  
_It's like a bird upon the wall_  
_And when the bird away does fly_  
_It's like an eagle in the sky,”_ Ulquiorra paused, listening to the sounds of the forest. The animals were stirring, anxious.   
“ _And when the sky begins to roar_  
_It's like a lion at the door.”_ There was a terrible scream in the distance, the sound of absolute agony and despair. Ulquiorra smiled, shaking his head as he ate. The father had just woken to discover his wife and four children brutally murdered, the youngest missing.  
“ _And when the door begins to crack_  
_It's like a stick across your back,”_ Ulquiorra leaned over, tearing meat directly from the corpse.   
“ _And when your back begins to smart_  
_It's like a penknife in your heart,”_ Ulquiorra turned, relishing the man’s distant screams. There was no end to the man’s misery. He cursed and wailed, his voice carrying through the forest like a shiver.   
“ _And when your heart begins to bleed_  
_You're dead, and dead, and dead indeed.”_

“Ichigo,” Ulquiorra grunted, tossing the last handful of bloodied meat to the ground. “Are you there?” Ulquiorra leaned back, closing his eyes in ecstasy. “Can you hear it?” Ulquiorra smiled, something that had been so difficult in his own body. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

* * *

“Slow down!” Shinji gasped, sliding down the steep edge of the rocky precipice.

“No.” Grimmjow growled.

“Ya can’t fight a Master alone!” Shinji shouted, pushing his palm against the ground to catch his balance. He righted himself and continued running after Grimmjow.

“It’s not a Master!” Grimmjow called over his shoulder. Shinji didn’t have the breath to argue. He closed his eyes and swung his arms, catching up to Grimmjow’s pace with great effort. Grimmjow looked at Shinji, his face red and his breath jagged, his air escaped in a strangled sound and he looked away quickly. “He’s there.”

“We’ll prob’ly both die if yer wrong.” Shinji replied.

“That’s fine.” Grimmjow choked out. “Ya got anythin’ to live for?”

Shinji tilted his head from side to side, “Well, if ya don’t mind, I kinda do…”

“Go back then.” Grimmjow said simply, without anger. “I can’t make any promises.”

“I wanna help ya,” Shinji spat out breathlessly. “I do.” Shinji pat Grimmjow’s back. “I jus’ don’ wanna die today either…” Shinji dropped his hand, struggling to match pace. “Shit, I haven’t run like this in …” Shinji’s speech paused in thought. “Over a hundred years.”

“Save your breath.” Grimmjow instructed. “You’ll need it in a few minutes.”

* * *

When Ichigo came to, he was crouched in a dark corner. He gasped loudly, his fingers brushing against the tip of the knife protruding through his throat. He turned, as much as he could, and saw the blood-streaked child who had inflicted the damage. The boy was young, no more than eleven summers, his entire body trembled, blood covering every visible inch of skin.

Ichigo felt the heavy taste of metal in his mouth; blood. He looked down at his full hands and let out a strangled cry, dropping the mutilated corpse to the ground. He scrambled back, slipping in the pool of blood under his feet. He slammed his back against the wall, yanking the blade from the back of his neck and pulling it free. He tossed the knife onto the floor in disgust.

“My… sister…” the boy croaked, blood spurting from his open wounds.

“I am so sorry.” Ichigo breathed out, rushing toward the child. The child seized up, his body rigid and tense. Ichigo laid the child down, trying to ignore the many other corpses in the house. “I am so, so sorry.”

He looked the child over, inspecting his injuries. He pressed his hands forcefully against the wounds, using his fingers to plug the holes. The child went into shock, remaining perfectly still and calm underneath Ichigo. But it was useless, and within a few minutes, the child took his last breath. Ichigo closed the boy’s eyes with his stained palm.

Ichigo searched the house, stepping carefully around and over the carnage. He grabbed the large pitcher of water and poured it over his head. He rubbed his skin furiously, trying to wash away the scabs of someone else’s blood. He dumped more water over his head, running his hands through his clumped hair. He gargled and spit, repeating multiple times until the taste of blood had subsided, if not completely vanished. He ignored the twitching and gasping form on the ground beside him and did his best not to retch. “Master,” Ichigo sighed, covering his face with his hands. “You’re so unfair.”

Ichigo swallowed bile and looked up. Blood splattered across the ceiling. If he squinted, it looked like nothing more than the stars in the sky. Ichigo closed his eyes, taking in several deep, calming breaths. There was one last rattling breath and then the cabin was silent. Ichigo looked from person to person, ensuring that they were all out of their misery. “You’re such a bastard.”

When Ichigo stepped outside he gulped the fresh air down greedily. He removed his stained and shredded shirt, abandoning it in the grass. He turned in a loose, rapid circle, letting the wind remove the stench of death from his skin and hair. He breathed noisily, putting as much distance between himself and the house as possible.

Ichigo clicked his tongue, appealing to his missing camel. It was fruitless; there was nothing to be seen for miles around. He cursed loudly, searching the stars for a sense of direction. All of the tiny, silver lights seemed to blend into one another. He rubbed his eyes, leaving black spots behind in his vision.

“Ichigo!” Ichigo spun around in the direction of the voice. “Ichigo!” The caller repeated, shouting into the night.

“I’m here…” Ichigo called out, turning in an unsure circle. But then there was nothing. For several minutes Ichigo stood, waiting for someone to appear. But he was alone.

His body grew heavy and he knew that he only had moments left before he lost control. Ichigo panicked, tearing a bottle of liquid from his waistband. He opened the lid with his teeth, downing the poison in one go. He could feel the burn on his tongue, and down his throat. But he realized he was too late. Ulquiorra would regain consciousness before the poison could kill him. He could only hope the Master couldn’t inflict any damage before he lost consciousness.

* * *

 

“Grimmjow, we’re too far away from the others!” Shinji called after the elder shifter. “It’s too dangerous.”

Grimmjow balanced precariously on a downed tree, the river rushing beneath him. He looked all around before turning back to Shinji. “Go back.”

“It’s not cowardice, it’s common sense,” Shinji defended. “Two shifters can’t fight a Master.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Grimmjow insisted, his eyes locking on Shinji’s. “I won’t be mad. I get it. I really fucking do…” Grimmjow shook his head. “But I have to find him. He’s so damn close. He’s nearly made it… he just needs some help.”

“I wanna help.” Shinji protested.

Grimmjow snarled in frustration, “Go home, Jackass! I don’t need ya anyway.”

Shinji hesitated, truly torn between staying and going, before finally sighing, “I’ll go help Kisuke.”

“Good idea.” Grimmjow replied.

“Be careful.” Shinji pleaded.

Grimmjow laughed, folding his arms over his chest, “Oh, please, I’m not worried about one puny, little Master…”

“I mean it, don’t die.” Shinji groaned.

“He won’t kill me.” Grimmjow said simply. “Whether it’s Ichigo or his Master, he won’t kill me…”

Shinji didn’t look convinced, but he nodded, “Come back in one piece,” Shinji called out. “And, preferably, with the kid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grimmjow muttered, waving his hand in annoyance. “Shoo!”

But once he was alone, Grimmjow’s bravado crumbled. He sat down on the log, the river spraying his skin with cold water, soaking into his clothes. He peeled layers of bark off with his fingers, twisting the loose pieces until they came off. He couldn’t sense Ichigo anywhere; there was no sense in walking. He laid down on his chest, his feet dangling above the water. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, “Where’d ya go, Ichi?”

Grimmjow wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there, face down on that log, when suddenly there was a commotion in the wood. He looked up, a feeling of dread settling heavily into his stomach. The brush shook violently before a figure exploded from the forest.

The man looked grotesque. Every inch of him was smeared with blood. His hair was matted down; his skin was marred with wounds. His clothes were torn and dyed black with old blood. He moaned pitifully, clutching his stomach in agony. He retched blood and unidentifiable bits of flesh. He sank onto his knees, gasping for air. That was when he noticed Grimmjow.

Ulquiorra’s eyes widened in shock. His mouth opened, trying to form the words to speak. It was surreal. Finding Grimmjow like that; in the middle of the forest, lying there, looking at him. Ulquiorra vomited again, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. He fell onto his chest in the grass, the pool of blood and gore spreading beneath him. He lifted his hand, his fingers reaching toward Grimmjow, “It’s you…”

“Where is he?” Grimmjow asked, pushing into a standing position. He crossed the river, rushing toward the grievously wounded Master. “Is he in there?” Grimmjow kneeled beside Ulquiorra, his hands hooking around the Master’s shoulders. Grimmjow shook him forcefully, “Where’s Ichigo?!” Ulquiorra’s mouth opened and red foam oozed from his mouth. He twitched hard, his eyes rolling upward. Blood filled his lungs, his chest rattling noisily. Grimmjow closed his eyes, “Ichigo, are you there?”

“m…here…”

Grimmjow’s eyes snapped open and he looked down at the stirring form beneath him, “Ichigo?”

“Grimmjow?” Ichigo murmured, sitting up with great effort.

“Yeah,” Grimmjow breathed, his blue eyes wide. “It’s me.”

“I don’’ave long,” Ichigo slurred. He pushed himself to his feet, the color draining from his face. “Am…close?”

“Yeah, you’re close…” Grimmjow said, looking away guiltily. “Come on…”

“So… tired…” Ichigo rattled, lifting his hand.

Grimmjow took Ichigo’s hand, leading the dying shifter toward the river. He hoisted Ichigo into his arms, and it killed him how light he was. He carried him over the river and just didn’t put him down. He walked quickly over the uneven ground before starting to run.

“Dying…” Ichigo grunted.

“No.” Grimmjow refused gently, placing a quick kiss on Ichigo’s head. “You’re not.”

“Ev…rything… hurts…”

“You’ve done good, Ichi.” Grimmjow breathed out, his foot slipping down a jagged rock. The rock sliced open his foot, but he ignored it, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him. Grimmjow swallowed tightly. “I’m so impressed, Ichi…”

Ichigo’s eyes met Grimmjow’s and for a brief moment Ichigo smiled. Grimmjow returned Ichigo’s weak smile with one of his one. Ichigo sputtered, blood spraying across his and Grimmjow’s face. Ichigo groaned, his fingers brushing against Grimmjow’s face weakly, “When I die… I wan..t…y-you… to…”

“Shaddap.” Grimmjow snapped. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You… nev…er…change…”

“Ya love me and ya know it.” Grimmjow teased, sweat dripping down his cheek.

“You…’ll… have to… kil…l…him…”

“I told ya to shut up.” Grimmjow barked.

“Lis…ten to me…” Ichigo rasped. “ts…im…por…tant…”

“It can wait.” Grimmjow grunted with effort, running faster than he could.

“Maybe… once… more…” Ichigo murmured.

“Once more what?” Grimmjow questioned, sparing Ichigo a glance.

Ichigo smiled, his teeth stained pink, “You…can…say it… once more…”

“That thing,” Grimmjow realized, his breath uneven, “you told me never to say again?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo said, nodding. “Just one…more… time…”

“I’ll say it when you feel better,” Grimmjow promised. Ichigo let out a tiny, distressed noise. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks. He closed his eyes tightly, his head dropping heavily against Grimmjow’s chest. “Hey, hey, cheer up, I’ll say it soon. You’ll be fine…” Grimmjow panicked. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“So stupid…”

“Yeah,” Grimmjow agreed, his hold tightening around Ichigo’s emaciated form. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Grimmj-”

“Hey, hey, we’re close…” Grimmjow pressed on. “We’re really close now.”

“I love you.”

Grimmjow felt his lungs shatter into a million pieces in his chest. He wasn’t sure how he was still moving, still carrying Ichigo. He inhaled sharply, spreading that glass-like sensation throughout his entire body. He was sure he had only moments left to live. “I love you so fucking much… don’t you dare die on me, Ichigo…”

“Gr-”

“Don’t fucking die. Don’t you fucking die…” Grimmjow snarled. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck! Don’t die…Don’t die…” Grimmjow felt the bone in his leg buckle and snap, but he kept running. “I love you so don’t die.” Grimmjow couldn’t breathe. “I’ll never forgive you if you die…”

_“Baby…baby…naugh…ty ba…by,”_ Ichigo rattled. _“Hush… you squ…al…ling thing...”_

“What? I can’t understand you,” Grimmjow said, shaking his head unsurely.

“ _Baby… ba…by…he's…a…gi…ant,”_ Ichigo sang weakly.  “ _Baby, baby… if he hears you…”_

“What is that? Is that a song?” Grimmjow questioned.

“ _Limb from limb… at once he'll… tear you…”_  Ichigo continued deliriously. “ _Jus’… as pus…sy tears a… mouse…”_

“Try to be calm.” Grimmjow suggested. But he couldn’t help but think Ichigo _was_ calm. He lay in his arms, gently singing with the last of his breath.

“ _And… he'll beat you… beat you… beat y-…”_ Ichigo continued until he fell into a coughing fit.

“We’re almost there.” Grimmjow promised. “Can you smell it?”

Ichigo opened his eyes and looked around. He smiled warmly, “Yeah, it smells like flowers…” Ichigo took a shallow breath. “It smells like you.”

“The palace is just past those trees.” Grimmjow explained. “We’re practically fuckin’ there.”

“ _And…and he'll eat you… eat you… eat…_  
_‘v’ry morsel… snap… snap… s…nap…”_

“We’re back!” Grimmjow shouted. “He’s here! Bring help! He needs help!”

“Put… me… down.”

“I’ve got ya.” Grimmjow insisted.

“No… down… now…” Ichigo persisted.

Grimmjow skidded to a stop. He lowered Ichigo, holding the younger shifter steady on his feet. “What’s wrong? Why’d’ya need down?”

“I can’t…” was all Ichigo managed to say.

“You’re back!” One of the palace guards breathed in shock as he approached them.

“Quick,” Grimmjow snapped. “He needs help now.”

“He has to walk in on his own,” the guard explained. “Yamamoto’s orders.”

“Fuck Yamamoto!” Grimmjow growled.

“Dying…” Ichigo rasped, shuffling forward.

“Hey, Ichigo, let me help…” Grimmjow offered, reaching out to Ichigo.

Ichigo shook off Grimmjow’s touch and continued to walk forward. “Help me…”

“I’m right here. Let me help you.” Grimmjow said softly.

But Ichigo didn’t seem to hear him. He moved forward laboriously, his eyes empty and glassed over. His skin seemed to ripple beneath the surface. Blood began to ooze from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. He was a walking death.

“Make yourself useful!” Grimmjow ordered the guard. “Clear his way.”

“Where are you going?” the guard asked nervously.

Grimmjow grabbed Ichigo by the shoulders, directing him toward the castle. He let Ichigo walk on his own, only guiding him in the correct direction.  “Nowhere.”


	31. Void

** Part XXXI: Void **

 “Get those doors open now!” Grimmjow shouted, his hands steadying Ichigo by his waist.

“Yes, sir.” One of the guards murmured, rushing toward the large, heavy wooden doors of the palace.

“Where’s the Council?” Grimmjow asked another shifter. “Where’s Shinji?”

“They’re in the throne room,” the shifter explained, reaching out to keep Ichigo from falling. He held Ichigo under the arms, holding him until the shifter found his balance again.

“What? Why? I need them here…” Grimmjow groaned.

“Yamamoto insisted that Mister Kurosaki make it on his own…” the shifter admitted quietly.

“Fuck that guy.” Grimmjow spat, catching Ichigo against his chest as the shifter stumbled backward.

“Master Hirako said it would be okay,” the shifter promised. “He said Master Urahara expected it.”

“Come on, Ichigo,” Grimmjow murmured softly. “Come on. Keep going…”

“Dy-ing…” Ichigo moaned.

“Nah.” Grimmjow refused shaking his head. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“He-lp…” Ichigo gasped, pausing to retch onto the marbled floor.

“We’re nearly there,” the other shifter explained, nodding toward a hallway off the foyer. “Just a little farther.”

“Get the doors open,” Grimmjow instructed. “I can get him there.”

“Master Jaegerjaquez,” the shifter whispered lowly, “There are people in there…”

“What? People? Wha’d’ya mean?” Grimmjow muttered, shaking his head in confusion.

The other shifter leaned in closely, his eyes darting back and forth nervously, “They’re armed and prepared for…” the shifter looked away, “a Master to walk through that door.”

“Got it.” Grimmjow said, nodding curtly. “Thanks.”

The shifter nodded wordlessly before turning away. He sped down the hall and busied himself with the doors of the throne room. Two other shifters aided him, opening the doors with great effort.

 “Ichigo?” Grimmjow whispered, ushering Ichigo through the open doors. “I’m gonna let go now. Okay?”

“Dy-ing…”

“I’m letting go.” Grimmjow breathed out, reluctantly releasing his hold on Ichigo’s waist. He watched Ichigo move toward the Council and, finally, leaning against the wall, obscured from view, he felt the full effect of his run. His broken leg would heal quickly, but the pain was unbelievable. Every inch of his lower body tingled and ached. He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes in discomfort.

“Who’s there?” Yamamoto demanded, looking toward the open chamber doors in surprise.

There was no answer as the twitching figure shuffled forward. The stench of rotting flesh was unbearable and the Council covered their mouths. The figure straightened up, the form of a man outlined just barely in the darkness. The figure’s head tilted, as if only just hearing Yamamoto’s voice.

“It’s a shifter.” Unohana breathed, looking from Ichigo to the unsteady guards lining the wall.

“No.” Yamamoto spoke firmly. He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. The Council waited, holding their breaths until the figure stepped into the light.

Urahara whistled lowly, his hand covering his mouth at the unexpected sight. He shared a look with Shinji who was equally alarmed. Shinji clicked his tongue, his brown eyes creased in repugnance, “The fuck is wrong with his Master?”

Ichigo’s body shook, blood dripping off his tongue as he opened his mouth. He let out a mindless growl, his knees knocking together as he shambled forward. “My… b-ody…”

“You can tell Jaegerjaquez...” Yamamoto said sternly, his brows knit in disgust. “We had no choice but to destroy it.”

“I have a feelin’ Jaegerjaquez won’t accept that answer, Yamamoto…” Shinji sighed.

“But, he’s just a child,” Unohana gasped, stepping toward Ichigo in concern. “There must be something we can do after all.”

“I’m not sure what I can do at this point or if it will even work,” Urahara said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “But we already voted on it. We said we’d help.”

“We don’t know this creature is still a shifter.” Yamamoto growled, waving his arm slowly as he spoke.  “We owe it nothing. It’s clearly diseased.”

“Dy-ing…” Ichigo’s voice escaped much like a gurgle, blood spreading between his teeth and pouring down his chin onto his chest. “Hel…”

“He’s suffering.” Unohana said, reaching out a hand as if she might touch him. She pulled her arm away, her braided hair swinging from the sudden movement. She was uncomfortable with both decisions before her.

_“My body.”_ Ichigo said suddenly, his voice deep and not his own. He spoke slowly, but fluently, his words carefully chosen. _“I have selected a new vessel.”_

“That!” A guard shouted fretfully. “That’s a Master! He’s possessed!”

 Ichigo doubled over, blood spewing from his lips. He held his stomach with one frail arm. He shook his head, his other arm reaching out toward the Council. Ichigo stepped forward, a loud crack splintering through the room as his femur burst through his skin.

Grimmjow moved from his hidden spot along the wall. He wanted to help, but he stopped himself. “I’ll put it down gently.” Urahara said, retrieving his sword, his eyes meeting Grimmjow’s. “It will be a kindness.”

“Don’t fucking touch him!” Grimmjow shouted, bursting into the chamber breathlessly. “And don’t you dare kill him!”

“Jaegerjaquez?” Yamamoto muttered. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Oh-ho.” Urahara cooed, releasing his sword.  “You never listen, Yamamoto.”

 “Is he a Master now?” Unohana asked, averting her eyes from the wretched sight.

“He’s a shifter. Like all of you.” Grimmjow barked pulling the battered, bloodied body in front of him closer to him. “You said you’d help!”

“What’s wrong with him?” Shinji asked, kicking his legs out from his chair. “I didn’t expect him to look like… that.”

“There’s no time.” Urahara breathed out. “Carry him, Grimmjow, hurry to my laboratory…”

“He isn’t going anywhere!” Yamamoto’s voice boomed.

“Wait!” Hitsugaya shouted, rushing into the room. He hurried over to Ichigo, looking him up and down. Hitsugaya swallowed thickly, “I need to take him with me.”

“What do you mean?” Yamamoto asked. “To Carcer? And where have you been?”

“No. Definitely not Carcer.” Hitsugaya insisted. “He has to go to Veritas.”

“Veritas?” Urahara murmured in surprise, sharing a look with Shinji.

“But you can’t leave Carcer unguarded.” Yamamoto commanded, frowning deeply. “You’ve already been absent for months!”

“I don’t need to be here to know exactly what’s going on.” Hitsugaya said, his low voice rumbling from his chest. He wiped the blood from Ichigo’s blind eyes, “I’ve been waiting for you, Ichigo Kurosaki.”

“What do you mean by this?” Yamamoto demanded.

“Sounds like he’s leavin’ with Ichigo.” Shinji explained, his finger picking at something on his ear.

“We can’t let it live. It’s no shifter. It’s a danger to us all!” Yamamoto bellowed. “And I demand to know where you’ve been!”

“Understand this,” Hitsugaya said, turning to face Yamamoto. “I do not answer to you.”

Hitsugaya turned to Grimmjow before adding, “I’m taking Ichigo.”

“Wait a minute!” Grimmjow gasped. “What are you doing? Where are you taking him?”

“I don’t have time to explain, Jaegerjaquez,” Hitsugaya snapped, hoisting Ichigo over his shoulder. “If you want him to live, you won’t try to stop me.”

“Okay then,” Grimmjow breathed out. He reached his hand out unsurely, his fingertips brushing through Ichigo’s coppery hair. “Go.”

Hitsugaya drew in the air with his hand, a silvery ring of light bursting in front of him. He stepped through and disappeared instantly from the throne room. Hitsugaya and Ichigo jostled through the portal, landing unpleasantly in the dirt on the other side. The earth shook, a thick, choking smoke filling the air. Hitsugaya kneeled beside the fevered shifter, pressing his fingers against Ichigo’s throat unsurely. Ichigo was still alive. Hitsugaya looked around, standing up and brushing off his bloody hands.

“I… was… sleep…ing…” Nozarashi’s throaty, deep voice drawled in the dark. “Whad-da-ya…wa-nt… Hyourin…maru?”

“It’s Ulquiorra.” Hitsugaya whispered. “I’ve got him.”

“Wha-da ‘bout ‘im?”Nozarashi voice rumbled.

“He’s collected all 666 parts.” Hitsugaya explained in aggravation. “And he’s chosen a vessel.”

“And?” the word was followed by a guttural laugh.

“We have to stop him.” Hitsugaya groaned, shaking his head. “Katen said-”

“Why?” Nozarashi interrupted.

“Earth is not our place.” Hitsugaya said angrily, his fists curling at his sides. “It belongs to the humans. If they kill themselves, that’s on them… but if we kill them…”

“I… don’t care.” Nozarashi snapped.  

“Nozarashi, stop this. Come out and face me properly.” Hitsugaya demanded impatiently. “Stop playing around. We already made our decision.”

The cavern shook, stone shifting as the scales of an enormous black dragon uncovered itself. The lake in the center of the cave began to swell, seeming to grow along with the dragon’s agitation.

A single green eye opened, focusing on the petite Hitsugaya. The dragon opened its mouth, smoke billowing out behind the laughter. The dragon moved its head slightly, gesturing to Ichigo, “Is that lunch?”

“Be serious.” Hitsugaya barked.

“I am.” Nozarashi replied, appearing in his human form beside Hitsugaya. He lifted Ichigo in his arms, careful despite his flippant attitude, and carried him toward the lake of Veritas.

“Can’t you ever take anything seriously the first time? Why do you do that?” Hitsugaya complained, following after Nozarashi. “Especially since we’ve already spoken for hours and hours about what the Creator wants and you agreed that-”

Nozarashi paused suddenly, turning around to cast a long, hard glance at Hitsugaya. His green eyes narrowed, smoke unfurling from his nostrils, “Shhhhh…”

“Why you!” But Nozarashi wasn’t trying to irritate Hitsugaya, at _that exact_ moment, as Hitsugaya realized a moment later. Ichigo sat up in Nozarashi’s arms, his face twisting in absolute rage.

“What are you doing?” Ulquiorra demanded. Ulquiorra followed Nozarashi’s gaze toward the smooth water of Veritas. He shook his head emphatically. “No. That’s not fair! I own this body! It’s mine!”

“You woke the baby,” Nozarashi snorted, bracing for impact. Ulquiorra struck out at Nozarashi with all his strength, there were indentions where his palms hit, but Nozarashi didn’t budge an inch.

Ulquiorra hissed in irritation, flinging himself from Nozarashi’s arms. Hitsugaya frowned, his white brows furrowed, “Murcielago! That’s enough. This is the end.”

“No.” Ulquiorra spat, pushing himself to his feet with great effort. “I won fair and square.”

Nozarashi let out an irritated snarl, flames licking past his lips. He turned toward Hitsugaya impatiently, “He’s in too bad’o’shape. There’s no way not to kill the shifter.”

“You have to try.” Hitsugaya insisted.

“Look here, Murcielago,” Nozarashi drawled. “There’s a code amongst Xibalbans-”

“Don’t patronize me, Nozarashi. And my name is Ulquiorra now. Use my new name.” Ulquiorra argued, his green eyes wide and unblinking.

“Ulquiorra, Murcielago, doesn’t matter, whoever you are,” Nozarashi barked. “Leave that body now.”

“It’s mine.” Ulquiorra retorted, eyes narrowing with hate.

“Get out now.” Hitsugaya pressed.

“Or what?” Ulquiorra hummed.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill ya.” Nozarashi answered simply.

Hitsugaya’s face blanched and he turned toward Nozarashi in concern, “We mustn’t kill Ulquiorra or the shifter will die too…”

“I know that.” Nozarashi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But he didn’t.”

Hitsugaya’s face filled with embarrassed color, “I see.”

“I see too.” Ulquiorra barked in laughter. “You can’t kill me. Why? What’s so special about this body? Is there something I don’t know?”

“There’re lots you don’t know.” Hitsugaya replied coolly. “And I honestly don’t care to explain it to you.”

“You’re no better than me.” Ulquiorra breathed out. “You two, you thought you were so special… Well look how you ended up! Look at yourselves? Do you feel special now?”

“I feel special.” Nozarashi teased, smiling from ear to ear. “Don’t you feel special, Hyourinmaru?”

“I don’t feel special.” Hitsugaya replied, his cheek twitching. “I am special.” Nozarashi laughed and the entire cavern shifted. The earth beneath their feet quaked and the lake in the center rippled threateningly. Hitsugaya flashed Nozarashi a smile, “You like that?”

“I did.” Nozarashi agreed, nodding his head.

“Fuck you both.” Ulquiorra snarled. “I don’t have to stay here and listen to this.”

“Actually, you do,” Hitsugaya maintained. “You’ve made a mistake. You didn’t fulfill your contract.”

“You fucked up,” Nozarashi interjected.

“That’s ludicrous.” Ulquiorra grumbled.

“Actually it’s not.” Hitsugaya claimed. “And cry all you want, but you’re not leaving here with that body.”

“Cry?” Ulquiorra said the word like a curse. “Cry? Cry? Cry?... Cry? You said, ‘cry’?”

“He said cry.” Nozarashi taunted, his green eyes flashing over to Hitsugaya.

“You openly mock me?” Ulquiorra blurted. “You dare to mock me? I’m complete! I’m the first Master to collect all my pieces. I played your stupid, little game by you and Katen’s rules! I beat everyone else. I beat Wabisuke! Hell, I beat Aizen! Don’t you dare mock me!”

“You had a good plan, I’ll admit. It was nasty and cruel, but you managed to get every single piece into that shifter,” Hitsugaya said, “but you fucked up one tiny little detail of your contract.”

“Ooooh,” Nozarashi heckled. “So close.”

“What are you talking about?” Ulquiorra spat.

“I never understand shifters who don’t read their contracts.” Nozarashi mumbled. “But for a Xibalban not to bother… It’s just fucking shameful…”

“Spit it out, you foul f-…” Ulquiorra’s words trailed off. He staggered backward, his hand wrapping around his abdomen.

“What’s wrong with you?” Hitsugaya demanded.

Nozarashi’s smile faded, “His shifter isn’t going down easy.”

“That’s good, right?” Hitsugaya asked unsurely. “He has a fighting spirit.”

“Nah, that’s bad,” Nozarashi said softly, his face smooth and expressionless. “It means the poor little shifter is destroying what body he has left. And it makes our job harder. It’s gonna be nearly impossible to separate the two of them…”

“Don’t say that.” Hitsugaya said quietly. “Just do it.”

“You expect me to do the impossible?” Nozarashi laughed humorlessly.

Hitsugaya turned to Nozarashi, “Kenpachi, I know you can do it. I believe in you.”

Nozarashi’s face twisted into several expressions in succession. He looked absolutely horrified. He finally settled on an expression of bewilderment, smoke issuing from his scarlet ears. “What the hell…” Nozarashi muttered. “Don’t talk like that. It’s weird.”

“Sorry,” Hitsugaya chimed victoriously. “Let’s get to work.”

“I won’t let you.” Ulquiorra maintained.

“If you had the strength to stop us,” Hitsugaya replied, “You’d already be gone.”

“You may be stronger than me,” Ulquiorra whispered threateningly, “But the Creator gave me something you could never have.”

“Oh, yeah?” Nozarashi drawled. “Wha’s that?”

“He gave me the void.” Ulquiorra breathed out, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. Ulquiorra rocked downward onto his knees, his palms pressing into the rough earth beneath him. “I was born from nothingness and I’ve lived in nothingness.”

“Damn, don’t smile…” Nozarashi barked. “It’s creepy coming from you. Even in that form.”

“Nozarashi,” Hitsugaya gasped. “I can’t see…”

Nozarashi turned toward Hitsugaya, catching only a flash of white before darkness settled over his eyes. Nozarashi grunted in aggravation, smoke bursting from his nose and mouth. “Cute trick,” Nozarashi conceded, “but that won’t be enough.”

Nozarashi was met with silence. There wasn’t a sound. There wasn’t a breeze. There was nothing. Blind and deaf, Nozarashi staggered forward a few feet. There was no strain on his body, no earth underfoot. There was nothing. The uncomfortably familiar tug of Veritas was gone. Everything was gone. Even Nozarashi’s thoughts were becoming slow and incoherent. There was nothing.

* * *

 

_“I was born in a bottom of a pit where no light shone. As if pressed together by the darkness. Untouched by everything at all. There was nothing to me, except my eyes. I felt nothing. No rather... It was possible that what I felt was "void", yet. I could hear nothing, I could bite nothing, I could smell nothing, I could feel nothing as I touched, I could not rest.”_

_“The things reflected in my eyes have no meaning. The things that could not be reflected in my eyes do not exist.”_

Tite Kubo _, Bleach_

* * *

 

“I’ve made a mistake here.” Grimmjow realized.

“Wait a minute,” Shinji drawled, his brows furrowing. “Wha’d’ya mean by that?”

Yamamoto nodded his head, “I agree.”

“I never should’ve helped you.” Grimmjow continued, his blue eyes wide. “I never should have started the Council… It’s too much for your kind…”

Yamamoto’s face turned red, he stammered over his words, his hands curling into fists. He beat the table violently, choking on his anger. “You…I... Jaeger… If… I…”

“What makes you say that?” Urahara asked calmly, sparing Yamamoto a furtive glance.

“Humans are ultimately destructive. Fear and greed ruin everything.” Grimmjow explained quietly. He seemed a bit shell-shocked since Hitsugaya had taken Ichigo away.

“Fear and greed are not exclusive to humans.” Urahara pointed out. “Although, I can see your point.”

“I cannot see your point,” Unohana interjected. “We’re helping people. We’re helping shifters settle into their new lives. We’re doing unequivocal good here.”

“For whom? Who are you helping? People who genuinely need help or people strong enough to eventually help serve you?” Grimmjow challenged.

“Urahara has done more than his fair share of-” Yamamoto began to argue.

“Nuh uh! Nuh uh. Nuh uh! You don’t get to bring Kisuke into this. What Kisuke sacrificed doesn’t have anything to do with the Council or with you. You can’t ride on those coat tails forever…” Shinji disputed, his voice rising in volume.

“You can’t speak to me that way!” Yamamoto bellowed in return.

“I understand what you’re saying,” Urahara said softly, barely audible over the screaming match on the other side of the table. He leaned over, brushing his hand against Grimmjow’s. “And I couldn’t agree more.”

“Really?” Grimmjow asked, feeling the small, empty pit in his stomach grow larger.

“But I think with your guidance, we could really change things.” Urahara continued.

Grimmjow shook his head, “I don’t know about that. I can’t… I can’t stay in one place for long…”

Urahara nodded in understanding, “Ah, yes, I know. Your nature is just too strong.”

“Hey, I feel like I’ve forgotten something…” Grimmjow began unsurely. “I’m not really sure what to ask… but is there something that you have to tell me?”

Urahara’s face scrunched up in thought before he turned back to Grimmjow, “Do you mean your forgotten memory?”

Grimmjow’s heart skipped a beat, “Wait. What?”

“That wasn’t it? Well then what did you want to ask?” Urahara continued, grinning sheepishly.

“Hold on. My forgotten memory? You mean the thing that was coaxed from me?” Grimmjow questioned. “But I chose to forget that.”

“The world works in mysterious ways.” Urahara chimed, waving his hand in front of his face.

“Explain yourself.” Grimmjow demanded.

“Oh, but then it wouldn’t be mysterious…” Urahara teased good-naturedly.

“Kisuke, damn it, you’d better stop fucking around and start tellin’ me somethin’…” Grimmjow snarled, standing up, his chair scraping the marbled floor noisily.

“Oh, calm down now. Grrrrr!” Urahara growled playfully, his hands curving like paws. “We can’t exactly talk about it all right here, can we?” Urahara asked, gesturing toward Yamamoto and Shinji who were seconds from exchanging blows.

“Guess not.” Grimmjow agreed sullenly.

“Stop pouting and follow me.” Urahara instructed, nearly bouncing in excitement.

“But, Ichigo…”

“Ichigo is in the most capable hands in existence.” Urahara replied. “Sitting here worrying does absolutely nothing for him.” Urahara tilted his head in gesture. “Come on, I might even be able to take your mind off of it.”

“That’s impossible.” Grimmjow groaned.

Urahara beamed from ear to ear, “Oh, you’d be surprised by what I can do.”


	32. Unfit to be a Slave

** Part XXXII: Unfit to be a Slave **

_"Knowledge makes a man unfit to be a slave."  
—  **Frederick Douglass**_

* * *

 

**FIVE HUNDRED THIRTY-FIVE YEARS PREVIOUSLY**

_“Boy! Boy!” The boy scuttled out of his cupboard, his bare feet pounding against the rough floor. He ran toward his master, his eyes downcast. “What took you so long, boy?” the master of the house demanded, striking the boy’s cheek. “Stupid, mute child!”_

_The master of the house continued to beat the boy. Blood spilled from a cut below his eye. His cheek immediately turned purple as broken capillaries flowed beneath the skin. The boy only whimpered, his hands held unnaturally at his side. Eventually, the master grew tired. “Boy, fetch me some wine.”_

_The boy nodded, backing out of the room silently. Once in the hallway he ran toward the kitchen. He licked his lips, searching the crowded, smoke-filled room for a jug of wine. He finally found it, and grabbed it, clutching it carefully in both hands. He turned to run back to his master when he suddenly caught on something._

_The boy was spun around by two massive hands. He looked up at the enormous man and opened his mouth in a silent scream. The man was fearsome looking, with a scar running down the length of the left side of his face. He had green eyes, brutal and inhuman. The man smiled and it was completely unsettling._

_“Boy,” the man said gruffly._

_The boy pulled against the man’s hold. He wanted to explain that he must hurry. He wanted to explain to the man how angry his master would be. But he couldn’t form the words._

_“It’s okay,” the man said, more softly this time. He placed one hand on the boy’s shoulder, the other holding him in place. “I jus’ wanna talk to you.” The man smiled again, and though it was the same smile, it was already less terrifying. “It won’t take long, I haven’t got a lot of time myself…”_

_The boy nodded obediently, even though his heart sank with worry._

_“This is poison.” The man explained, emptying the contents of a vial into the jug of wine. “It’s strong. One sip and your master will die.” The boy’s eyes grew wide. The man laughed, a bark of a laugh, and nodded, “Does that sound satisfying?”_

_“Take it to your master.” The man instructed. “And he’ll never be able to hurt you again.”_

_The boy’s eyes welled up with tears. He looked down at the jug, trying again to find the words that were impossible. A million thoughts whirred through his head, but finally, with resignation he realized he couldn’t kill his master. Any slave that killed their master doomed every other slave to the same punishment; death._

_“Tick tock.” The man murmured. “Time’s running out. Your master is gettin’ pissed waitin’ for ya…” The boy gulped nervously, his hands shaking. “You can either poison your master or toss out that wine… That might be hard to explain. You’re pro’lly gonna be in big trouble…Do what you think is right.”_

_“BOY!” the master’s bellow carried throughout the house. The boy panicked. He grabbed the jug of wine and guzzled it down. He closed his eyes, expecting the pain to explode through him at any moment._

_“Why’d you drink it?” the man asked curiously, releasing his hold on the child._

_“If I killed my master, they’d kill everyone else here.” The boy said, his eyes wide in shock. He pressed his hand to his throat and then his mouth. “I… what…? I don’t understand… I’m talking… I’m making noise…”_

_“Yeah, you’re making noise.” The man breathed out, smoothing his large palm over the boy’s pale hair. “I have a question for ya,” the man began slowly, picking the boy up into his arms. He carried the boy against his chest. The boy inhaled deeply, amazed by how the man smelt so much like fire and myrrh._

_“You don’t understand,” the boy continued in bewilderment. “I’m dumb! I haven’t ever spoken a word in my life!”_

_“And it doesn’t seem like you’re stopping anytime soon, eh?” the man teased, walking past the hired guards and out of the house._

_“Where are we going?” the boy questioned, watching the house rapidly disappear from view._

_“Away.”_

_“Where’s away?” The boy pressed._

_“I have a question for ya,” the man repeated, coming to a stop. He placed the boy on the ground, lowering him to his feet. “I need ya to listen carefully, because ya can’t change your mind later...”_

_“Okay.”_

_“Are you listening carefully?” the man pressed._

_“Yes.” The boy insisted, bouncing up and down on his feet._

_There was a terrible groan. The earth began to rumble and quake. The hills rolled and jutted upward, rocks splitting into pieces. The house, barely visible in the distance began to crack, the façade crumbling away. “What is going on?!”_

_The man didn’t even bother to turn around. “It’s an earthquake.”_

_“An earthquake?” the boy watched with morbid curiosity as the only place he’d ever known was demolished by the shuddering earth. “Are they gonna be okay?”_

_The man bit back his smart reply; he knocked his forehead against the boy’s. “Don’t you worry ‘bout them. Their troubles are over.”_

_“You can’t go home.” The man explained curtly. “And you can’t come with me either.”_

_“What? Why not?” the boy demanded, panic filling his heart._

_“Where I come from,” the man breathed out, “is not a good place for little human boys.”_

_“Human?” the boy questioned, his curiosity piqued. “Are you not human?”_

_“Does it matter?”_

_“I suppose not. You saved me after all.”_

_“I didn’t save you.”_

_“Yes you did. I hated it there! It was dreadful. They were cruel! And… and just now… that earthquake! I would’ve been killed!”_

_“I didn’t save you. I used you.” the man argued, his green eyes narrowed. “Grownups are selfish and driven; or worse, ambitious; they rarely do things just to be nice.”_

_“What did you use me for?” the boy inquired skeptically._

_“I’m getting there.” The man replied. “You keep interrupting.”_

_“Oh, well, excuse me, go on…” the boy muttered under his breath._

_“I need you.”_

_The boy’s grey eyes widened, “How so?”_

_“I’m not strong enough.” The man admitted kneeling in front of the boy. “Me and my… well… I… It’s complicated to explain, but there was four of my kind that were responsible for keepin’ the order…” the man sighed, wiping his hands over his face. He looked exhausted, or perhaps ill. “But it’s down to two of us now.”_

_“Your kind? So you really aren’t human, are you?”_

_“I don’t have time to answer too many questions…” the man barked, sweat rolling down his cheek despite the low temperature. “I have to explain some things first.”_

_“Go on.” The boy urged._

_“I need someone like you.” the man whispered._

_“Like me? But I’m not special…” the boy replied._

_“No questions until the end.” The man said with a smile. “I need a human who’s not afraid to die. I can’t promise a swift, painless death either. I can’t promise anything except that it’ll be difficult and with little reward…”_

_“I need a human who can survive.” The man continued. “I need someone strong, mentally and physically.”_

_“But…”_

_“I found you.” the man said simply._

_“And you saved me.”_

_“And I’m about to ruin your life.” The man corrected sharply. “Listen, I let countless people die just now. Didn’t I? That says all you need to know about me. I won’t lie. I needed you. So I acted.”_

_“What do you need me to do?” the boy asked._

_“That’s more complicated.” The man sighed heavily. Splotches of pale skin began to spread across his face and neck like a rash. “I need an assistant.”_

_“An assistant?” the boy asked excitedly._

_“You’d be working for me for an eternity.” The man explained. “Until the day I die, you’d have to serve me.”_

_The boy seemed to consider the man’s words. “Doing what? Doing what I did before?”_

_“No,” the man said simply, shaking his head. “You’ll probably never see me again.”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“I know. I’m tryin’… this is…” the man groaned in frustration. “I don’t wanna ask you this. I don’t wanna do this…” the man stood up, towering over the boy. “I’ve never made a shifter before. And I’m no good at explainin’.”_

_“Someone else will come along,” the man continued, calming down. “He’s… uh… a friend of mine. He can explain everything good and proper. But I have to make the contract. He can’t do it for me. It doesn’t work that way.”_

_“A contract?”_

_“Yeah, my kind is very particular about following an agreement. Here’s mine, you can live your life. Do whatever the hell ya want to do. But when your natural life comes to an end, or a hundred years, whichever comes first, you belong to me.”_

_The boy was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. When he finally spoke his voice was small, “But I’ll die here all alone.”_

_“Not if I chose right.” The man said. He tilted his head back, inspecting the boy with critical interest. “Do we have a deal?”_

_“So, I’m on my own until I die? And then, someone else will come along and tell me what you want me to do?” the boy questioned unsurely._

_“Until you die or turn, oh, well, what 107?” the man replied, eying the boy pointedly._

_“Okay, so I’m on my own until I die or turn 107, and then someone is going to come and tell me what to do?” the boy clarified._

_“Yes.”_

_“And if I say no?” the boy inquired._

_“Then nothing happens to you. And I just wasted my time and energy.”_

_“You can’t tell me what I’ll be doing?” the boy pressed anxiously._

_“I can, but you pro’lly don’t wanna know…”_

_“Tell me…”_

_“My… uh… my friend and I have been separated.” The man explained. He looked away, his face growing dark. “We need a place to return to.”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“I don’t expect you to.” The man barked, wiping his sunken face. “Make your choice. You can walk away from here with no obligation or you can sign the contract and serve me in your afterlife.”_

_“It’s a deal,” the boy said, spitting into his hand._

_The man smiled, spitting into his own hand. They shook on it, a scroll of paper appearing in the man’s left hand. He rolled out the parchment, a look of anger flashing across his face. “It’s blank there…” the man snapped. “What the fuck did I do wrong?”_

_The boy pressed up on his toes, examining the paper. “I can’t read, but… wait… oh-wow!” The boy took the scroll, soaking in every detail. “It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so fascinating. Master had a few letters but they looked nothing like this…”_

_“It’s Xibalban.” The man explained. “But more importantly, the name place is blank. We can’t sign it. I’ve never done this before so I definitely fucked something up…” the man looked furious._

_“I’m sorry,” the boy murmured. “It’s my fault.”_

_“Why the fuck would it be your fault?” the man grunted._

_“I don’t have a name.” the boy said, his face drooping with despair._

_“Ah,” the man nodded. He kneeled down beside the boy, throwing his arm over his shoulder. “Well, lucky day then. You get to pick your very own name.”_

_“What? I can’t pick my own…” the boy refused._

_“Why not?” the man asked with a smile. “I did.”_

_“What did you pick?” the boy asked._

_“Well, first I picked Nozarashi. All my old-old friends call me that. People I am irritated with, and are mutually irritated with me, call me the Dragon of Xibalba or Veritas. And my new friends call me Kenpachi.”_

_“That’s a lot of names.” The boy said, humored._

_“I know a lot of people.” The man replied. He gestured back toward the contract. “Go ahead, pick a name.”_

_“Okay,” the boy decided, his tongue pressing against the corner of his mouth. “I will.”_

_The man rolled up the scroll, pushing it into his palm where it disappeared. “We have a deal, Kisuke Urahara.” The man pat the boy on the head affectionately, “Take care of yourself.”_

**FIVE HUNDRED YEARS PREVIOUSLY**

_Urahara moved silently through the house. He watched his best friend sleeping, her slender, muscled shoulders heaving up and down. She sighed heavily, her long violet-black hair stuck against her face. He moved the hair, tucking it behind her ear gently. He pressed a kiss to her temple, brushing his pale hand over her dark shoulder. He placed a letter on the empty pillow beside her._

_Urahara moved to the pallet along the far wall. He ruffled her younger brother’s dark hair. The boy stirred in his sleep, hugging his pillow more tightly. He tucked a note underneath the boy’s arm. Urahara smiled sadly, “Take care of yourself.”_

_Without waking his family, Urahara left the house. He walked through the woods, the sunrise peeking through the trees. The morning was cheery, the air was cool. The birds were already singing. It was a beautiful, perfectly normal day._

_Urahara felt his chest pang. He clutched at his heart through his shirt. The pain was intense. He was terribly winded. He pushed forward, his left arm growing numb and heavy. “Already? Sheesh…” Urahara breathed out, his fingers tingling. “And here I thought I’d live to be over a hundred.”_

_“Kisuke Urahara?” a voice called out._

_Urahara looked around the forest in confusion, “Ah, over here…”_

_A young man, petite and youthful with a crop of messy white hair, stepped forward. “Are you expecting me?”_

_Urahara smiled brightly, he shook his head, his right hand clasping his shirt, “Honestly, I don’t know. I was beginning to think I’d imagined the whole thing.”_

_“You didn’t.” the white-haired man said simply. “My name is Toshiro Hitsugaya.”_

_“I am…” Urahara staggered. “Kisuke… Urahara… but you… probably already know that…”_

_“I do.”_

_“You’re here because I’m dying…”_

_“I am.”_

_“How did you know?” Urahara asked, sitting down on a downed tree trunk._

_“I’ve been watching you.” Hitsugaya answered. “I guess I should ask how you knew. You had everything prepared.” Hitsugaya tilted his head to the side as he spoke. “And why are you out here?”_

_“I wasn’t sure,” Urahara answered. “If anyone would come for me or not.” Urahara smiled widely. “But I certainly didn’t want my family caught in some calamity.”_

_“I won’t hurt them.” Hitsugaya assured him._

_“Good. That’s great.” Urahara gasped, falling from the trunk onto the forest floor._

_“I don’t have much time to explain before I start,” Hitsugaya breathed, kneeling beside Urahara. “But I’ll explain everything once you revive.”_

_“Revive?” Urahara grunted in agony._

_“First,” Hitsugaya breathed, pulling a thick, slippery black tentacle from his pack. The tentacle wriggled and screeched. Hitsugaya brought the tentacle up to Urahara’s mouth. “A piece of your Master.”_

_“I…” But Urahara’s words were cut off as Hitsugaya forced the tentacle into Urahara’s mouth._

_“Swallow it down.” Hitsugaya commanded. Urahara twitched violently, his feet slapping against the ground noisily. “And now secondly, a piece of me.”_

_Hitsugaya forced something peculiar down Urahara’s throat. He shook his head at Urahara, as if relaying to him that he didn’t want to know what it was. Urahara was unable to speak. He began to seize. Histugaya stood up, standing over the dying man wordlessly._

_A few moments later, Urahara began to stir. He blinked his eyes slowly, trying to sit up. “What has happened?”_

_“I will explain everything.” Hitsugaya promised, hoisting Urahara’s body over his shoulder. “But we must leave this place.”_

_“Where are we going?” Urahara asked._

_“Home.”_

_“Home?” Urahara asked weakly._

_“Your new home.” Hitsugaya clarified. He brushed his hand over Urahara’s face. “Sleep for now. I’ll wake you when we get there.”_

_“It’s time to wake.” Histugaya said, rousing Urahara sometime later._

_They were in a vast field. There was nothing, not even a tree, for miles. They were in a queer flat, barren place, surrounding by forests. “What sort of place is this?”_

_“We need you Urahara.” Hitsugaya said simply._

_“What should I do?” Urahara questioned, sitting up in the grass. He looked himself over, examining his visible parts. “Am I really dead?”_

_“Yes. You’re dead. And now you must serve your Master.” Hitsugaya confirmed. “Until the day he dies.”_

_“How?”_

_“We need a point of connection.” Hitsugaya explained. “He’s trapped. He can’t leave Xibalba.”_

_“Then how did he come and save me?” Urahara asked flatly._

_“That was a special circumstance.” Hitsugaya replied. “And it was terribly painful for him.”_

_“He’s in Xibalba. And I am here.”_

_“Here? Where’s here?” Urahara asked._

_Hitsugaya tapped the ground, “Beneath our feet.”_

_“In the ground?” Urahara asked unsurely._

_“Beneath our feet is an underground cavern.” Hitsugaya said. “Ice-cold water fills it.”_

_“I won’t pretend to understand any of this.” Urahara said with a smile. “I hope I’m not supposed to be remembering any of this…”_

_“Okay.” Hitsugaya said, nodding his head. “I’ll keep it simple.”_

_“This will be your final resting place.” Hitsugaya kneeled beside Urahara. He laid the shifter on his back, placing his palms on his chest. “This’ll hurt.”_

_“You shouldn’t have told me. Now I’m nervous.” Urahara murmured, chuckling anxiously._

_“It’ll feel just like falling.” Hitsugaya said, smiling down at Urahara._

_“That’s better. Tell me sweet lies.” Urahara teased._

_“Thank you for this.” Hitsugaya whispered suddenly. “You’ve no idea the good you’re doing. I hope one day you can understand.”_

_“I died a free man,” Urahara murmured, closing his eyes. “That’s the only thing that matters to me.”_

_And with an explosion of white, Urahara’s body was shattered. Hitsugaya pressed his palms against his body, through his breaking bones and into the earth. There was a burst of bright light, ice shot up from the ground like spears. Snowflakes fluttered from the sky. Urahara’s body was unrecognizable, his bones launching upward, multiplying astronomically in size._

_The ground was unsettled, Urahara’s pelvic bone, now larger than the size of a whale, burst through the ground, sinking into a pool of frigid, clear water. His bones began to mutate further, changing shape as well as size. They grew closed, forming an enormous cage of bone. The cavern beneath began to fuse with the bone, diamonds and emeralds and countless other priceless gems growing over every surface. The palace was formed in two days’ time, from the bones of Nozarashi’s only shifter, Kisuke Urahara._

* * *

 

“I’m a little confused.” Grimmjow muttered, following Urahara with his eyes.

“About what?” Urahara asked, grabbing a vial from one of his cluttered shelves.

“How can you possibly know what I don’t?” Grimmjow pressed.

Urahara smiled, “Oh, I imagine I know many things that you don’t…”

“Agh!” Grimmjow snarled. “You know what I meant! I chose to forget it. I have no idea what it was even about. How can you?”

“It’s complicated.” Urahara breathed.

“Start spilling. I’m not in a good mood right now.” Grimmjow warned.

“Shush, kitty-kat,” Grimmjow teased. “You need me.”

“That’s…”

“You want to see this memory or not?” Urahara asked, arching a pale brow.

“I… I don’t know…” Grimmjow blurted out. “I mean, I went to so much effort to find out what it was and then I… I don’t know… for some reason, I just… I don’t know. It fucked me up somehow. What if I regret this?”

“It may ‘fuck you up’, but you need to remember it.” Urahara snapped. “You can’t run away forever.”

“I can and I will.” Grimmjow retorted.

Urahara only smiled, “Don’t be such a coward.”

“How?”

“How what?”

“How do you know so much about them?” Grimmjow pressed. “The Masters? Their world?”

“It’s a secret.” Urahara whispered, pressing his finger against his lips.

“One you can’t tell me?” Grimmjow pushed.

“I’d like to help you get your memory back, and for good this time,” Urahara continued, ignoring Grimmjow’s question. “Are you in or are you out?”

“Damn,” Grimmjow growled. “I’m in.”

“How delightful.” Urahara beamed, pushing Grimmjow back onto his bed.

“I’d better not regret this.”

Urahara smiled, “No returns.”

“Kisuke,” Grimmjow murmured, settling onto the bed uneasily, “Why don’t you leave the palace?”

Urahara shook a vial, “I don’t?”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Grimmjow growled. “What’s going on? I used to know, didn’t I?”

“Your age is catching up with you…” Urahara commented.

“Probably.” Grimmjow agreed.

“I can’t leave the palace,” Urahara replied, handing an opened vial to Grimmjow. “Because I don’t exist outside of this palace. Not anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Grimmjow questioned, taking the proffered vial.

“Don’t worry about little ol’ me,” Urahara chimed. “Drink up.”


	33. None but You

** Part XXXIII: None but You **

_"You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope...I have loved none but you."  
_ — Jane Austen,  _Persuasion_

* * *

 

**THE 48 TH YEAR OF THE JAEGERJAQUEZ REIGN**

**Ba-Da-Dum-Dum.**

**Ba-Da-Dum-Dum.**

The drummers pounded rhythmically. The sun had set. The torches were lit in unison, as if by magic, the orange light dancing across the pristine white sand. There was an animalistic shout, a type of twisty tongued vocalization. A horn sounded, trumpeting loud enough for the entire island to hear. The ceremony had begun, signaling the four different tribes to emerge from the jungle.

The panther tribe surrounded the young Atlantian hunter; his exasperating sisters, his neighbors, his friends. They smeared his body with golden paint, mixed from the fruit of the golden yew tree; it was fragrant and cool to the touch. They covered every inch of exposed skin, staining him the blinding color of the sunbaked sand.

The young Atlantian was pushed along the beach, toward the altar. The jackal tribe approached, adorning the young prince with his ceremonial headdress. It was unbelievably heavy and he wobbled under the weight. His cousins, his fellow islanders, laughed, slapping his back in encouragement.

The young Atlantian continued on his way, his head held high and his shoulders back. The noise of the different tribes was at an all-time high. They whooped and cheered, sang and beat their drums. It was a dizzying cacophony and it made the young Atlantian’s head swim.

The quetzal tribe rushed him next. They prodded him good-naturedly, teasing him as much as they could afford to. They adorned him with a blade, crafted from the finest and rarest metals of the island. His cousins, and fellow islanders, fastened the blade around his slender waist, pinching the round, muscular flesh of his buttocks. He did his best not to slap their hands away, everyone was watching after all.

And last, the ancients of the island, the turtle tribe approached, slow and purposeful in their movements. They hadn’t had a new turtle named in two generations. They were old and withered, and in their own opinion, the wisest villagers on the island. They encouraged the young hunter, hoping, despite his personality, that perhaps he would be named into the turtle tribe. The young hunter stood obediently as the elders fussed over him. And, at last, the turtle tribe offered their gift to the young Atlantian; a brilliantly made torch of white stone. The young Atlantian held the heavy torch in both hands, feeling the weight of responsibility firmly on his shoulders.

The young Atlantian made his way to the altar. He jumped over the stairs, landing on the platform with ease. The panther tribe roared appreciatively and the young hunter turned and flashed a wide smile. He cocked his head to the side, an endearing arrogance evident in his handsome features.

The Cacique beckoned the young hunter, her long, blue hair parted in the middle. In the center of her head she wore a brilliant sapphire; it sparkled in the torchlight like black waves of the night sea. Her face was obscured by a painted clay mask, in the shape of a panther. The Cacique murmured under her breath, waving the young Atlantian forward. “Your torch,” she spoke through the mask, “Light it in the fire.” She waved her hand over the violet-black flames in front of her. The flames licked at her fingers, her long, jeweled nails cutting through the fire.

The Atlantian hunter nodded and extended his torch, placing the tip in the flames. The Cacique leaned in closely, her eyes just visible beneath her mask. She was so close, her head nearly touching the young hunter’s. And then she spoke again, “You look so handsome…”

 The hunter blushed furiously, turning his torch over and over in his hand. “Mother… knock it off…” His torch caught fire, the violet-black flames casting an eerie blue light down the white stone handle. The Atlantian hunter sighed in relief, taking a step back from the fire pit. He held up his lit torch, the blue light bathing his golden skin.

There was a man beside the altar, standing in the sand. He was tanned and strong, and larger than most of the angular panther tribe. He was the young hunter’s father. He nodded slowly, his clenched fist smacking against his muscled chest. He shouted over the cheers of the panther tribe, pumping his fist into the air. “Pantera!”

“Pantera!” the panther tribe hailed.

“Pantera.” The Cacique murmured, her bejeweled hand brushing over the hunter’s painted shoulder. “As expected of my son,” She circled around him, her hands pressed against his broad chest, “the future king of the four tribes of Atlantis.” She lifted her mask, her beautiful face split into a proud smile, “The 29th Cacique of the panther tribe.”

“Not anytime soon.” The hunter replied, following the Cacique’s bewitching movements with his eyes. He grinned self-assuredly. “I’m confident in the current Cacique’s abilities.”

The Cacique smiled, her sharp nails piercing through the tough shell of some tree fruit. She covered the fruit with a strange crimson powder, chanting over the fruit ceremoniously. She shook the fruit back and forth, swinging it from hand to hand.

“Would his father like the honor?” the Cacique called out, her heavy blue eyes wandering to the man to the left of the altar.

The man seemed startled, but he nodded wordlessly. He climbed the stairs, his broad, scarred back straight and his head held high. He took the cup she offered, his large tan hand brushing against her nearly black skin. The Cacique smiled seductively and slowly the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “You favor this child too much,” his father scolded quietly.

“Because he favors your looks the most.” The Cacique replied, batting her jeweled eyelashes.

His father smiled, tipping the cup precariously back and forth, “Nonsense. He’s your spitting image.”

“You’re welcome.” The Cacique replied teasingly, pouring the juice into the cup.

His father turned to the young hunter, extending the cup toward his eldest son, but not yet offering it. “Today you become a panther. But it will be many summers yet until you become a man.”

“Are you ready?” the Cacique asked kindly. “This is the most important moment of your life.”

“Don’t scare the boy.” His father whispered, sharing a look with the Cacique.

“Weren’t you nervous?” the Cacique mouth. “When you saw me in your dreams?”

“Your mother asked if you were ready.” His father said, ignoring the Cacique’s question purposefully.

“Yeah.” The hunter nodded, tapping his fingers against his thigh nervously.

“Be cunning like the panther, ferocious like the jackal, striking like the quetzal, and judicious like the turtle.” The Cacique recited with her eyes closed, loud enough for all of the tribes to hear. “And love like an Atlantian, forever and ever or never at all.”

“Yeah.” The hunter nodded again.

“Drink from this cup.” The Cacique instructed. “And discover your destiny.”

The hunter took the carved bone cup from his father. He brought it to his lips; the scent was enough to make him gag. He fought against the urge, his stomach gurgling threateningly. “It’s unnatural,” the young hunter complained. “To use your love cervere in such a way…”

“It’s magic.” The Cacique replied, sharing a look with the hunter’s father. “And there’s nothing stronger or more beautiful than using it for good.”

“Don’t be afraid.” The hunter’s father encouraged. “Unless it’s a turtle you’re to mate, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

The young Atlantian snorted in disapproval, “Like that would happen.”

“Then stop worrying.” The Cacique urged. “The sooner you know who she is, the sooner you can give me grandchildren…”

The young hunter made a face, his teeth bared. “Mother.”

“Sorry.”

“Drink.” His father instructed patiently. “Everyone’s watching. Make us proud.”

The young hunter gulped down the tart juice concoction. The powder was spicy enough to burn his lips, but surprisingly the taste wasn’t terrible. It settled his stomach instantly. He nodded when he finished, giving his cup back to his father. “And now what?”

The Cacique caught her falling son in her arms, lowering him down to the altar floor with ease, “And now, you dream…”

_Grimmjow dreamed he was in a tomb of gold. Treasure was stacked to the ceiling in piles. In fact, the treasure was so copious that it leaked from the cracks in the ancient stone. Grimmjow licked his lips, enchanted by the place. This golden tomb felt like home._

_“Yo.” Grimmjow said, his deep, mature voice startling even himself._

_“I’m coming.” Said a faraway voice in a peculiar foreign accent. “Just a moment.”_

_“Are ya stuck?” Grimmjow asked, squinting unsurely. He knew he was dreaming. He knew that in a moment he would be able to see his future mate. He was impatient. What was taking his mate so long? Could she not fit through the blocks of fallen stone?_

_“Who’s there?” His mate called frantically._

_“You are stuck.” Grimmjow realized with a laugh. Even in a dream it was too much. “How lame.”_

_“Where are you? Help me out of here…” His mate pleaded, moving closer._

_“Sorry. Can’t.” Grimmjow called out, pushing against the walls forcefully. “Stone’s too heavy. Even for me.” ._

_“I know.” His mate breathed out._

_“Then why don’t you just keep coming this way?” Grimmjow suggested. He was dying of curiosity. It was hard to sound natural. There was hunger deep inside of him, and only his mate could satiate it. “I’m too big to pass through that narrow space. You can keep me company…”_

_Grimmjow caught a glimpse of his mate. He was a gangly thing and he had the strangest shade of ginger hair. His eyes were earthy brown and soft… and he was a he. And he was no panther. Grimmjow’s thoughts congealed. He couldn’t register a single thing.  In his confusion he lashed out, “You know what? I’m fine by myself. Fuck off.”_

_“What? What are you talking about?” his mate groaned, wriggling between the stones._

_“I’m done with conversation. Forever.”_

_His mate, no, that boy laughed. “Sorry. Am I not what you were expecting?”_

_“What are you?” Grimmjow questioned. “A quetzal? A jackal? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before…”_

_“I’m a human.” The ginger boy explained, scooting closer._

_“A human?” Grimmjow felt as if he could faint. “A human as my mate? That’s impossible.”_

_“I said I was sorry.”_

_“Go on. Go back to those filthy humans. I don’t want you here.”_

_“I’m here because of you.” the ginger boy pointed out._

_Grimmjow shook his head in refusal, “Ridiculous. The Gods are punishing me.”_

_“No need to get your feelings hurt,” the ginger boy teased, sliding even closer to the chamber._

_“Let’s get this straight, I don’t have feelings…”_

_“I… I think I can make it…” the ginger boy called excitedly. “I’m almost there!”_

_“What if I don’t want to share my little chamber? Huh? What then?” Grimmjow whispered._

_“You don’t have much of a choice,” the ginger boy panted with effort. “We can only go forward now…” And at last the boy was in the chamber with Grimmjow._

_“I am the future Cacique of Atlantis!” Grimmjow began to lecture. He paced back in forth in the limited space.  “Do you realize what that means?” Grimmjow paused to look long and hard at the other boy, but he found he only had the courage to stare at his feet. “Thank you for coming, but I am afraid I will have to decline.”_

_The ginger boy only laughed, “You’ll come around.”_

_“Don’t hold your breath,” Grimmjow retorted._

_“Hey, look at me.”_

_Grimmjow snorted, “Why?”_

_“Look at me.”_

_Grimmjow looked up, a strange nervous feeling twisting through his stomach. “What?”_

_“Do you really refuse me?” the ginger boy asked, his dark lashes fluttering over his eyes. “Am I truly no good?”_

_Grimmjow thought of the women of Atlantis. Their hair was long and flawlessly styled. Their faces were painted attractively, their brows adorned with jewels. They dressed handsomely, their exposed skin painted with scented dye. They were lithe but strong, with developed muscles, slender waists and thick legs. They were inhumanly beautiful._

_Grimmjow studied his proposed mate. He was scrawny but cursed with round, youthful cheeks. He was dressed poorly, his feet rough and calloused. His hair was closely shorn and dirty, and the most unnatural shade. His eyes were large and wide, the most feminine and delicate thing on him._

_“This is only a dream,” Grimmjow reasoned. “There’s been a mistake.”_

_“I see.” The boy said simply._

_“You’re not even Atlantian…” Grimmjow continued, easing his mind. “What use would I have of a human?”_

_“I suppose none at all.” The boy agreed, shrugging a slender shoulder._

_“And with a… a boy… there would be no heir…” Grimmjow panicked. “The Jaegerjaquez would lose the crown… and all because of me…”_

_“So you’re settled then?” The boy asked, stepping closer._

_Something tugged in Grimmjow’s belly. He sniffed the air, inhaling the unmistakable scent of sunshine, citrus, and wind. The boy moved even closer, his features becoming clearer. He wasn’t terrible to look at, perhaps. The more clearly Grimmjow saw him, the more conflicted Grimmjow felt over his initial perception._

_There were ever-so-slight freckles sprinkled across the boy’s sunkissed skin. His hair was_ different _, but Grimmjow considered that it might be perfectly acceptable for humans. His eyes were beautiful and expressive. His lips looked soft and the perfect shade of peach to complement his coloring. He was thin, but there was muscle definition. If he were a little older, and well-fed, Grimmjow resolved, he’d be breathtaking._

_“Are you decided?” the boy pressed._

_“Yes.”_

_“And?” the boy asked, smiling handsomely._

_Grimmjow pulled himself up to his full height; he was a little irked to discover that the other boy was a smidge taller, “What’s your name?”_

_“Ichigo.”_

_“Ichigo.” Grimmjow murmured, trying the foreign name on his tongue. “Ichigo… And where can I find you, Ichigo?”_

_Ichigo’s features changed. Suddenly he was flawless. There wasn’t an inch on him that Grimmjow didn’t adore. Grimmjow swallowed thickly, waiting impatiently for Ichigo’s reply. Is this what it felt like to be around your mate? He felt his face grow hot. The boy across from him sparkled more than all the treasure in the chamber. Finally, Ichigo responded, “You’ll find me on an adventure.”_

When Grimmjow woke up he heard a woman crying. He sat up, feeling the warmth evaporate from his body. Thinking of Ichigo made his body tingle. He shook his head to clear it, a new excitement coursing through him. He stood, straightening his disheveled headdress. “Mother…” Grimmjow began excitedly. He turned to find his mother crouched on the ground, his father over her.

“Mother! What’s wrong?”

The Cacique groaned woefully, her slender hand pressed against her forehead. “It’s unthinkable.”

Immediately guilt washed over Grimmjow. “Mother, Father, I am so sorry. My mate… it’s not a panther… it’s not even a female… I…” Grimmjow kneeled beside his mother worriedly. He thought of all the things wrong with his match. Why? Oh why didn’t he refuse it and live alone? Surely that would have been best. “And its not even an Atlantian…”

His mother cried out, the shock, surely, nearly killing her. Grimmjow clutched the Cacique’s hand. “Mother, I’m sorry.”

“I am sorry too.” The Cacique lamented. “You must leave.”

Grimmjow’s eyes widened, “What?”

“You must go now!” the Cacique ordered.

“I’ll refuse the match…” Grimmjow vowed. “I’ll forfeit the title to Llewroe, she can be Cacique…”

“No, Grimmjow,” his father said softly. “You don’t understand. You must go.”

“But wh-”

“You must go and find your mate.” His father continued.

“I don’t know…” the Cacique wailed. “My magic has failed. I know not where your mate is…”

“What?” Grimmjow shook his head in disbelief.

“I couldn’t find him.” The Cacique explained. “Anywhere on this earth.”

“What does that mean?” Grimmjow asked, squeezing his mother’s hand tightly.

“It means you must go on a journey.” His father said.

“A journey?”

“Yes.” His father confirmed. “You must leave Atlantis and find your mate.”

“I don’t want to leave…” Grimmjow protested.

“Oh, Grimmjow, my son,” the Cacique sighed. “Without your mate, your den will be empty.”

Grimmjow considered his mother’s words. He asked carefully, “so you’re not angry with me? I was right not to refuse my match?”

“No, I’m not angry with you,” his mother confirmed. “I just can’t believe it… My son… Never has an Atlantian matched with an outsider…”

“Where will I go?” Grimmjow questioned, helping his mother to her feet. “And how do I know when I find him exactly?”

“I don’t know where he is,” the Cacique confessed, “but you’ll know it when you meet him. It’ll be like your dream, the vaguest sense of déjà vu.”

“Bring him home as soon as possible,” his father instructed, walking Grimmjow down the altar steps. “It’s best to build your den within the first year.”

“Ah, yes, dear, it’s much more auspicious, even if you don’t actually have any young the first year, you really should have made a den…” the Cacique agreed, looking at her mate.

“You’ll be fine travelling.” His father encouraged. “Humans are fragile though, so be careful with him.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard the same,” the Cacique nodded. “Absolutely no rough housing like you do with your sisters.”

“Mother… please…” Grimmjow groaned, walking more quickly toward the jungle.

“Grimmjow,” his father said.

“What?” Grimmjow asked, shrugging in annoyance.

“I’m real proud of you.” his father admitted. “And we’ll hold a banquet in your honor upon your return.”

Grimmjow smiled, a strange sense of pride swelling in his chest, “What do humans even eat? You should think ahead and have something for the occasion.” Grimmjow smirked confidently, growing more and more excited as they walked, “Only the best for my mate. I’m the future Cacique, after all.”

* * *

 

Grimmjow sat up in Urahara’s bed. There was a strange bittersweet taste in his mouth. He had forgotten. He had forgotten so much. Was everything coaxed from him? Did he forget it voluntarily? Had time worn him down to the point he no longer remembered his own family? It was strange and uncomfortable, suddenly remembering people once so dear to you.

“Are you back?” Urahara asked.

“How long was I out?” Grimmjow questioned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Three days.”

“Three days?!” Grimmjow shouted, jumping to his feet. “Where’s Ichigo? What’s happening?”

“Calm down, kitty-kat…” Urahara breathed. “There’s no word on that yet.”

“I think I’m sick.” Grimmjow groaned, collapsing back to the bed. He held his head in his hands, a strange stinging in the corner of his eyes. “Something’s definitely wrong with me.”


	34. Killing My Flesh

** Part XXXIV: Killing My Flesh **

_"I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it."_  
— Sylvia Plath, _The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath_

* * *

 

_“Where are we?”_

“Xibalba, no…” Ulquiorra shook his head, changing his mind.  “I’m not sure that’s right anymore.”

_“What is this place… for…?”_

Ulquiorra’s head twitched unnaturally, like a tic. “It’s a graveyard.”

_“Who’s buried here?”_

Ulquiorra pushed himself off the ground, the white stone leaving impressions in his palms. “You’re very full of questions today.”

He turned to look at the person beside him and staggered backward, realizing he was alone. He looked around uncertainly. He had been speaking to someone, who? He pressed his hand to his chest and shook his head in refusal, “Ichigo… For a moment I thought…” But he couldn’t finish vocalizing the thought.

He stood in silence for several minutes before, _“Did you kill them?”_

“Kenpachi and Toshiro?” Ulquiorra clarified, a scoff escaping his lips. “Of course not.” Ulquiorra turned, searching the dark water. “Katen did.”

_“Where are they?”_

“I sent them away.” Ulquiorra admitted sharply. He felt something inside of him strain. He was exhausted. It was more strength than he possessed to send them to the void. “Something I should’ve done with you!”

_“I see.”_

“I can’t believe how much trouble you’ve been.” Ulquiorra groaned, kicking at a rock. It skidded across the shore before bouncing off of the water. It ricocheted unnaturally, rolling directly back in front of his feet.

_“Who do you think I am?”_

The question made Ulquiorra freeze in place. He turned in a tight circle, scanning the dark cave with unease. “What do you mean?”

_“Who do you think you’re talking to?”_

“It hardly matters, you’ll be dead soon.” Ulquiorra decided. He rubbed his temples, his vision blurring. “You won’t live more than ten seconds after I leave this place.”

_“Can you?”_

“Can I what?”

_“Can you leave this place?”_

“Of course, stupid,” Ulquiorra barked.

_“It’s not too late.”_

“What?”

_“It doesn’t have to be like this…”_

Ulquiorra’s lip peeled back in subconscious hatred. “You sound like-”

_“I’m not Ichigo.”_

Ulquiorra felt a shiver pass down his spine.  He knew that voice. It was familiar. It made his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots. “Wh-”

_“Let him go. Just relinquish that shifter.”_

“Silence!”

Komamura stepped into view, the dim light blocked by his broad shoulders. The light behind him seemed to illuminate his form, like a glowing aura. He walked slowly, his hands held up peaceably.

“You! I should’ve known from the dog smell…”

“Your contract is invalid,” Komamura tried to explain, his deep voice soft. “You can’t take his body. The consequences…”

“Shut up! I wrote the contract myself! I know what I’m doing! How dare you…” Ulquiorra spat, his new voice cracking with emotion. He hated Ichigo’s voice right now. It was weak under pressure.

“You made a mistake.” Komamura insisted calmly.

“What’s so special about this shifter?” Ulquiorra demanded, trying to smoothe down a bit of rotting skin on his arm.

“Nothing, yet…”

“Yet? What does that mean?” Ulquiorra challenged.  “Yet!”

“You need to bring the others back.” Komamura breathed out, inching still closer to Ulquiorra.

“Stay back!” Ulquiorra commanded, swiping at Komamura.

“I know you’re afraid, but it’s okay… You can still fix this…”

“Afraid? Afraid? Me? Afraid?”  Ulquiorra screeched.

“They’ll get out. You know they will,” Komamura continued. “And they’ll be pissed. You don’t want to deal with them angry…”

“Want to join them, dog?” Ulquiorra threatened.

Komamura frowned heavily, “You and I both know that you don’t have the strength to send another.”

“I do.” Ulquiorra maintained coolly. “You’re just not worth the effort.”

“Is there anyone you hate more?” Komamura asked, a strange twitch curving up the corners of his mouth. “I think you’d make the effort.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Ulquiorra muttered.

“Let him go.” Komamura pleaded, grabbing Ulquiorra’s wrist. “Just let him go and run.”

“Run?” Ulquiorra shook his head, yanking against Komamura’s grip. “Nonsense.”

“It won’t be forever.” Komamura explained. “They’ll forgive you. You know that… What they’ve forgiven already…”

Ulquiorra maimed the side of Komamura’s face with his claws. The other Master withdrew in panic, a strange canine-like whimper of pain escaping his lips. Ulquiorra laughed in amusement, licking the blood from his claws. “I don’t want forgiveness.”

“You’re not Aizen.” Komamura said sharply, rubbing the blood off his cheek. Even wounded and angry, he was handsome. “Why should you die trying to be like him?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“He’ll never be your friend. Don’t you get it?” Komamura demanded in exasperation. “He’ll never like you. You’ll never be good enough for him. It’s him. He’s terrible…”

“You don’t get it,” Ulquiorra replied.

“Then explain it to me…” Komamura pressed.

“You’d never understand. You’re too pathetic.”

Komamura nodded silently before muttering, “I had to try.”

“Try what?”

“I had to try to reason with you. I had to try to change your mind.” Komamura explained, looking away.

“I’ve always hated you, dog. Why you even bothered is a mystery.” Ulquiorra mused.

“Someone asked me to try.”

“Such a loyal dog. And what reward are you given?” Ulquiorra taunted.

“Nothing.” Komamura admitted with a shrug.

“I’m through with this.” Ulquiorra decided, waving his arm in dismissal. “I’m leaving.”

“Not with that body.” Komamura argued.

“And you’ll stop me?” Ulquiorra asked, arching a brow in amusement.

“You’ve been standing there, looking down on me, while Toshiro and Kenpachi have been figuring out how your power works.” Komamura revealed.

“It doesn’t matter.” Ulquiorra sighed. “They won’t figure it out before I figure out how to get out of here.”

“You’ve never listened to me.” Komamura mumbled. “I’ve only ever wanted to help.”

“I would rather die than accept help from an animal like you.” Ulquiorra said simply.

“So that’s it.  You refuse my advice? You won’t relinquish the shifter? That’s your final answer?” Komamura questioned seriously.

“I won’t.” Ulquiorra maintained.

Komamura nodded, turning toward the wall. “Thank you, Nozarashi, but you were right. He’ll never change.”

“Wha-” But Ulquiorra couldn’t even finish the word before both Hitsugaya and Nozarashi appeared.

Nozarashi smiled smugly, his arms folded over his chest. “How did you escape?”

“How did you escape?” Ulquiorra blurted, before even realizing what Nozarashi had said.

“Did you forget?” Nozarashi asked quietly. “You were always a weak Xibalban.”

“Weak…” Ulquiorra hissed in disbelief.

“You bullied that shifter because you were stronger than him, just like you bullied the humans.” Komamura replied with distaste.

“And Nozarashi and Hyourinmaru against me, I suppose that’s a fair match?” Ulquiorra growled.

“Life’s not fair, princess.” Nozarashi barked. “You’re too fucking old to be crying about that still.”

“You lost all your chances of a peaceful outcome,” Hitsugaya declared. “But if you leave him alone now, I promise it will only hurt a little.”

“How charming.” Ulquiorra murmured. “But I refuse. We have a contract, him and I. This body is mine.”

“Pssst…” Nozarashi clicked loudly. “Guess what? Your contract is worthless. You didn’t hold up your end of the agreement.”

Ulquiorra’s stomach clenched painfully, “And how so?”

“You promised him one full day with his mother in exchange for eating his heart.”

“Yeah. And?”

“His ‘mother’ was only with him for two hours before he pleaded and begged for you to destroy her.” Nozarashi explained, a smile curving the corners of his mouth. “He realized he was tricked. You sent her after him. She dragged him back and stood guard over him for two whole hours. He was so terrified he couldn’t move and could barely speak.”

“But…” Ulquiorra interjected.

“But nothing. You promised a full day. You delivered two hours. Not only are you a complete asshole, but you fucked up big time…” Nozarashi clarified. “You never specified alive and well, that was on him, but the time… it was very specific… And you breached it yourself.”

“This can’t be… Surely that’s not enough of an issue to cause a fuss over…”

“It is.” Histugaya said simply, folding his arms over his chest.

“Do you pay this much attention to Aizen’s contracts?” Ulquiorra questioned, looking up with wide green eyes.

“Don’t compare yourself to Aizen.” Hitsugaya replied. “He’s another league entirely.”

Ulquiorra felt struck. He staggered backward, his hand clutching his throat. “I… He… How did you escape the void?”

Nozarashi and Hitsugaya exchanged looks. Hitsugaya sighed heavily before replying, “We’re standing inside of Nozarashi. You can’t really expect to hold him with such weak magic?”

“Weak magic…” Ulquiorra whispered, stung.

 “I’ll be your opponent.” Komamura announced.

“You?” Ulquiorra scoffed, a tear running unchecked down his cheek. “Someone so weak?

“It’s time you picked on someone your own size…” Hitsugaya breathed out.

“I thought you were going to fight me…” Ulquiorra’s breathing hitched painfully. “You said…”

Nozarashi shook his head, “We’re here to save the shifter.”

“The shifter?” Ulquiorra shook his head in disbelief.

“He’s important.” Hitsugaya said simply.

“Remember,” Nozarashi breathed out, tapping his head pointedly. “I already know.”

“What do you know?” Ulquiorra questioned angrily.

“I’ve already seen it all. Everything’s playing over and over again in my head.” Nozarashi admitted. “I know everything you’ll say and do. I already know. It’s over. It’s over.”

“It’s all so unfair.” Ulquiorra moaned, dropping to his knees in dismay. “I never stood a chance.”

“You stood a chance.” Komamura corrected. “I gave you a chance. But you wouldn’t take it. Not from me.”

Ulquiorra nodded slowly. “No, not from you.”

“Because you hate me that much?” Komamura shook his head in disbelief.

“I hate you more than anything else.”  Ulquiorra sighed, sinking further onto the ground.

“I’m going to separate the two of you,” Komamura explained, kneeling beside Ulquiorra. He was so close, close enough for his scent to overpower the stench of Sulphur.

“You can’t have it. It’s mine.” Ulquiorra replied quietly.

Komamura ran a nervous hand through his sandy blonde hair, “You’ll have to return to Carcer with Hitsugaya.”

“I won’t go back there.” Ulquiorra refused, his fingers curling through the course earth beneath him.

Komamura placed his hand on Ulquiorra’s chest. Ulquiorra slapped his hand away immediately, but Komamura just kept replacing it. “It’s going to hurt,” Komamura explained. “I’ll have to take out your organs.”

“I won’t let you.”

“I’m not strong,” Komamura murmured, his hand growing heavier against Ulquiorra’s sternum. “But I’m capable.” Ulquiorra closed his eyes, frustration streaming down his cheeks in salty tears. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why the Creator chose me. It needs me.”

“Just kill me already.” Ulquiorra groaned.

“I didn’t want to do this.” Komamura confessed, pressing Ulquiorra backward into the sandy earth. “I always tried to-”

“Tenken,” Ulquiorra snapped. “Shut up.”

Komamura nodded solemnly. Without another word he thrust his fist through Ulquiorra’s chest cavity. He wrenched the lungs from his body, crushing them like butterfly wings in his hands. Ulquiorra let out a terrible noise, unable to produce the air to scream.

And then Ichigo began to scream, pinned to floor beneath the massive Master. He choked loudly, steaming blood spurting from his mouth and out of his chest. Komamura worked quickly, cutting his intestines and pulling it out along with the appendix. 

“Stay calm.” Hitsugaya instructed breathlessly. He stroked Ichigo’s head comfortingly as Komamura sliced more organs from his body.

“Hold ‘im…” Komamura gasped, unable to keep the horrified shifter in place. Nozarashi dropped to the ground, leaning on Ichigo’s shoulders to keep him down.

“Hurts…” Ichigo squealed. “Stop…”

“Almost done.” Komamura lied, removing pound after pound of tissue.

“There’s so much damage.” Hitsugaya realized, yanking a long, black tendril out of Ichigo’s body. He crushed it between his fingers, his brow knit together with worry.

Nozarashi grabbed a wriggling black tendril and forced it into his mouth, making a face as he swallowed the visible lump down his throat. “There’s no helping it.” Nozarashi looked toward the water. “The shifter is dead.”

“Not yet.” Hitsugaya barked.

“This is ...” Nozarashi blanched, smashing another tendril into the rough stone beneath him. “He won’t survive this. Stop, Tenken.”

“No. We keep going.” Komamura insisted, shaking his head in refusal. He removed a kidney, tossing it behind him carelessly.

“Maybe Nozarashi is right…” Hitsugaya reasoned, smashing his foot through the pulsating kidney.

“No.” Komamura shouted, the veins in his neck throbbing. “We keep going.”

“There’s nothing to be done.” Hitsugaya decided, straightening up. “Leave the shifter be. He’s dying. Ulquiorra won’t leave.”

“Murcielago,” Komamura growled. “Stop it…”

“Don’t waste your breath.” Nozarashi chuckled humorlessly.

“Murcielago,” Komamura pleaded, severing the spine. “Stop…”

“It’s a lost cause.” Hitsugaya insisted. “It’s not your fault. The Creator will understand.”

“No! If I couldn’t do it,” Komamura roared, “It wouldn’t have been asked of me…”

“How many more pieces?” Nozarashi asked.

“423.” Komamura answered, licking his lips anxiously. Nozarashi and Hitsugaya exchanged a look. A moment later Nozarashi released his hold on Ichigo and stood. “What are you doing? I need your help.”

“This is a lost cause. Accept it.” Hitsgugaya urged.

“I won’t.”

“Why?” Hitsugaya replied, shaking his head.

“He can’t…” Komamura groaned, hacking at Ichigo’s body persistently. “He can’t win. I won’t let him. Not after all of this… We can’t let him win. He’s done evil… and…”

“I get it.” Nozarashi interrupted gruffly. “Save your breath.”

“That body won’t make it.” Hitsugaya insisted. “He’s won nothing.”

“And neither have we.” Komamura growled in frustration, blood soaking into the very last of his clothes.

“There’s something we can try.” Nozarashi breathed, staring at Hitsugaya pointedly. “But it will kill the shifter.”

“Then what good is that?” Komamura asked.

“Because it will pull Ulquiorra out.” Hitsugaya realized, nodding his head in understanding. “We’ll lose the shifter, but Ulquiorra will lose his hiding place.”

“Exactly.” Nozarashi confirmed.

“I’ll take his dark matter, we can split it later,” Hitsugaya murmured. “And I’ll slam his ass back in Carcer with everyone else.”

“But the Creator wanted the shifter alive.” Komamura groaned.

“Don’t blame yourself.” Hitsugaya sighed. “It’s Ulquiorra’s fault.”

“Do you want to beat Ulquiorra or do you want to waste time trying to save a dead man?” Nozarashi questioned.

“If I have the choice,” Komamura declared. “I’d rather save the shifter.”

“If he was that important don’t you think the Creator would be here?” Nozarashi snapped.

“You know that’s not how it works…” Hitsugaya chastised.

“Everyone shut up!” Komamura barked. “And think of something.”

“I don’t w-wan-t to d-d-die…” Ichigo gasped, clasping Komamura’s hand in his.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Nozarashi murmured, dropping down beside the wounded shifter. “Just go to sleep. It’ll be over soon.”

“D-do-don’t wa-want to die…” Ichigo repeated tears leaking from his eyes.

“Why?” Hitsugaya questioned. “There’s no need to suffer.”

“I…” Ichigo’s voice trembled, his hands quaking fiercely. “I never… even… got to live…”

“Damn it.” Nozarashi growled. He leaned over and yanked Ichigo out from under Komamura. There was a disgusting thump as flesh and tissue dropped from Ichigo’s body. Nozarashi tossed Ichigo over his shoulder, ignoring the blood seeping into his hair, clothes, and skin.

“Where are you going?” Komamura asked, his eyes wide with panic.

“I ain’t smart. I only know what I know.” Nozarashi barked. “There’s only one thing to be done.”

“Kenpachi, wait!” Hitsugaya cried out, covering his mouth in shock. But it was too late to stop him. Nozarashi was already in the center of the lake. He rolled Ichigo over, dropping him unceremoniously into Veritas. There was a great splash, the water inexplicably washing up the banks.

Ichigo let out a tremendous scream of agony. A moment later his voice had cracked into two. Ulquiorra burst past the surface of the water, shrieking as if he were on fire. He choked on the water, sloshing and flailing, terrible, incoherent cries escaping his lips. He struggled toward the bank, the water weighing him down.

He finally dropped to the ground, his feet still kicking through the shallow water. His naked white skin seemed to glow in the dark cave, the water refracting light like a precious stone. He rolled onto his back, panting and gasping for air.

“That’s one problem solved.” Hitsugaya murmured, his boots resting just inches from Ulquiorra’s head. He looked down at the Master, a shivering, shuddering wet mess, and he clicked his tongue in irritation. “But we’ve lost the shifter.”

“There should have been another way!” Komamura cried out. “Why else would Katen come? If it was totally hopeless, the Creator wouldn’t have asked it of us!”

“He was in pain.” Nozarashi said simply. He broke his heavy gaze away from the surface of the water to stare at Ulquiorra.  “Both of them were.”

“Fish him out,” Hitsugaya instructed, waving his hand in Nozarashi’s direction. “We should take him back to the other shifter. For closure.”

“Keep telling me what to do,” Nozarashi breathed menacingly. “I love it.”

Hitsugaya groaned, turning his back on the others. “Do as you wish then.”

“I will.”

“It’s not fair…” Ulquiorra sobbed, beating his fist against the uneven ground.

“It _is_ fair.” Nozarashi barked. “You’re the fuckin’ idiot that fucked up his contract.”

“You killed him.” Ulquiorra rattled, pushing himself up onto his elbows weakly. “If you were just gonna let him die, why did I have to lose the body…? It doesn’t make any sense. You’re just spiteful.”

“That’s crazy ironic comin’ from you,” Nozarashi whistled lowly, shaking his head in astonishment.

“I’d believe it if the Creator told me you’re the bitterest soul on this Earth.” Hitsugaya claimed, hands on his hips. “And I happen to specialize in misery.”

“You killed him.” Ulquiorra breathed out, finally managing to sit with his legs crossed under him. Water drenched his black hair, dripping down in bead-like curtains over his chalk white skin. He stared hatefully at Nozarashi and Hitsugaya, his green eyes large. “You killed Ichigo.”

“You killed Ichigo.” Nozarashi argued.

“No.” Ulquiorra shook his head slowly. “I couldn’t kill him…”

“It’s regrettable to lose the shifter. We tried. We failed.” Hitsugaya reasoned. “But now he will be at peace. He’s corpse won’t be in your hands.”

“I suppose now you’ll take me back to Carcer,” Ulquiorra muttered, “but what of the shifter?”

“We’ll return him to the other shifters.” Hitsugaya explained.

“To Grimmjow?” Ulquiorra asked, his eye twitching.

Hitsugaya and Nozarashi exchanged looks, Hitsugaya nodded, “Yeah.”

“And you’ll tell Grimmjow,” Ulquiorra spat, enunciating each syllable, “that you killed Ichigo?”

Nozarashi huffed loudly, “We didn’t.”

“Oh, but you did,” Ulquiorra whispered, pushing himself to his feet. “You killed my body.”

“It wasn’t yours.” Hitsugaya refused.

“It was! It was mine!” Ulquiorra maintained, throwing out his arm in gesture. “And you interfered. For no reason.”

“We wanted to save your shifter.” Komamura explained. “That’s the only reason we interfered.”

“Then everything was pointless.” Ulquiorra confirmed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “This is unbelievable. The insult…”

“Fuck! Just take him already. I’m tired of listenin’ to ‘im.” Nozarashi snarled, throwing his hands up in the air. “Get outta here. All of ya.”

“You’ve underestimated me.” Ulquiorra accused, a deep pulse emanating from his body.

“I’ve told ya, I already-”

“You’ve made your mind up already. That has nothing to do with what I’m capable of.” Ulquiorra interrupted. A sulphuric steam issued from his orifices, spreading like fog through the cavern. “And you’ve most definitely underestimated me. You’ve belittled me and humiliated me. And you fucking killed my fucking shifter…”

“Hyourinmaru, look o-” Nozarashi barked in warning.

But he was too late. Ulquiorra’s hand gripped the side of his head, his short fingers wrapping painfully around his skull. He smashed Hitsugaya’s head against the ground, pushing down and down and down and down until there was a grotesque crack. Ulquiorra didn’t relent until Hitsugaya’s brains seeped over his fingertips.

“That was damn stupid.” Nozarashi breathed, his lips held tightly in anger.

“Get up.” Ulquiorra commanded.

“What?” Nozarashi laughed humorlessly.

“I said, Get up.” Ulquiorra growled.

“Oh, I’m up. And I’m going to destroy you. If the shifter’s dead, there ain’t a reason not to destroy you.” Nozarashi realized. “I can kill you all I want now.”

“Get up.” Ulquiorra repeated. “You’re not so weak as all that.”

Nozarashi waded through the water, walking onto the shore. He was instantly, magically dry. He reached for Ulquiorra, clasping empty air.

“Get up, you stupid, little pig!” Ulquiorra shouted, rushing toward the lake.

Nozarashi sighed, looking from Hitsugaya slowly healing on the ground to Komamura who stood in uneasy silence. He turned around, rolling his eyes with displeasure. “He’s dead. He’s not getting up. Veritas isn’t something mortals can survive…”

“How many times have I tried to kill you?” Ulquiorra demanded, searching the water with his hand. “You’ve never done me any favors. You’re truly the worst servant.”

“You’re just making it easier for me.” Nozarashi sighed. “It won’t take any effort to kill you like this.” Nozarashi turned to Komamura, “I need his stone.”

“No.” Komamura refused, looking away.

“No?” Nozarashi snorted in disbelief. “What?”

“If he dies,” Komamura explained slowly. “The shifter will too.”

“The shifter is dead.” Nozarashi snapped, gesturing his hand with finality. “The end.”

“No.” Ulquiorra answered, shaking his head. “He’s going to get up. He’s going to get up…right…now….” Ulquiorra splashed through the water blindly. “He’s _my_ shifter. He’s not going to die in such a pathetic way…” Ulquiorra shuddered, still sick and weakened. “Damn it! Get up this instant!”

“Give me his stone.” Nozarashi demanded, reaching out his hand.

Komamura shook his head, “Just one more moment… please…”

“I am Veritas!” Nozarashi blurted in frustration. “I think I know if he’s dead or not! And Ichigo Kurosaki is a fucking dead man!”

“Don’t fucking listen to him! GET UP! GET UP NOW, ICHIGO!” Ulquiorra bellowed, slapping the surface of the water. “Get up!”

There was an eerie ripple of the water. Gooseflesh prickled across Ulquiorra’s white skin. Nozarashi’s mouth dropped open and he turned toward the center of the lake. It was as if every ounce of humidity had been sucked out of the cavern. A chill encircled them, and each of them shuddered in turn.

“What’s that?” Hitsugaya asked, kneeling on the ground and rubbing his head sorely.

“I…” Nozarashi blinked in astonishment.

There was a stirring in the center of the lake and Ichigo’s ginger colored head began to emerge. His head moved slowly; his hair, then only his eyes showing above the surface of the water. He stood unnaturally, as if he were a screw being unscrewed. Finally, he stood in the chest deep water, his mouth opening. Water poured from his lips, spilling into the lake like a fountain.  Ichigo smiled, so unnerving it nearly paralyzed the Xibalbans present. And then he spoke, calm and even, “I’m up.”


	35. Until Something Moves

** Part XXXV: Until Something Moves **

_“Nothing happens until something moves.”  
_ Albert Einstein

* * *

 

“Stay calm.” Someone whispered, brushing their hand over Ichigo’s hair.

A moment later someone panted, “Hold ‘im…”

“Hurts…” Ichigo squealed, thrashing his head from side to side. “Stop…”

“The shifter’s dead…”

“I don’t w-wan-t to d-d-die…” Ichigo gasped, clasping a hand in his. 

“Doesn’t it hurt?” a deep voice murmured.  “Just go to sleep. It’ll be over soon.”

“D-do-don’t wa-want to die…” Ichigo repeated weakly.

“Why?” another questioned softly. “There’s no need to suffer.”

“I…” Ichigo’s voice trembled, his hands quaking fiercely. “I never… even… got to live…”

_And then the pain ceased. He blinked in the darkness, looking around the empty desert. The sun was incredibly close, unnaturally so, and the palest orange he’d ever seen. It was as if the sun was days away from crashing into the planet. There was a great rumble beneath his feet and suddenly the sand beneath him caught fire. But still there was no pain._

_There was a glimmer of color on the horizon. A person approached, their blue hair vibrant against the sea of sand and fire. Ichigo stood up and waited impatiently. That shock of blue hair filled him with comfort and it was unbelievably easy to ignore the planet’s destruction underway._

_“Hello.” Ichigo looked at the blue haired woman in astonishment. It wasn’t who he had been expecting, but he was too bewildered to be disappointed. She was muscular and lithe, with beautiful coconut colored skin. She smiled, her teeth shimmering like the jewels that adorned her face. “You must be Ichigo.”_

_“Ah… I am…” Ichigo breathed out, offering his hand politely in greeting. The woman smiled, clearly humored, and slowly extended her hand to shake Ichigo’s. “Who are you?”_

_“I am a memory.” The woman explained, her long, decorated nails brushing over Ichigo’s palm as she ended the handshake. “And I was sent here to speak with you.”_

_“A memory? Sent by whom?” Ichigo questioned rapidly. “Where are we?”_

_“When are we,” the woman mused, sweeping widely with her arm. She spun in a slow circle, gesturing to the dying planet. “There is so much knowledge to be attained…”_

_“I’m dead.” Ichigo realized, nodding his head dazedly. The woman smirked and all Ichigo could see was Grimmjow. His chest ached and he clutched it tightly. “Fuck, I’m actually dead…”_

_“What’s wrong?” the woman asked, her bejeweled lashes fluttering. She pointed to his heart, her sharp nail pressing against his flesh._

_“Nothing,” Ichigo lied. And then he choked on air. He couldn’t believe it. After everything, this was it. This was the end. “It’s just,” Ichigo began to cry. “I’ve prepared myself for this day, but I didn’t know it would feel like this. At the end… at the end… he was there… he tried to help me. And I’ll never see him again… And I… It just… You remind me of him.”_

_The woman smiled crookedly before unexpectedly throwing her arm around Ichigo’s shoulder. She squeezed him tightly, pressing her head against his. She laughed quietly, an almost bittersweet sound, “Oh, how we waited for you…” Ichigo stared unsurely at the woman from the corner of his eye. She nodded her head, releasing her hold on him. “Follow me, I have lots to show you…”_

_“I am the memory of the 28 th Cacique of Atlantis,” the woman explained as she led Ichigo away. The scenery changed as they walked, as if they were living in a bizarre timeline on fast forward. Nothing could reach them, not heat nor cold, and they walked unobstructed onward. “I was Grimmjow’s mother.”_

_Ichigo paused abruptly. He looked the beautiful, exotic woman up and down. He knew, without a doubt, that it was the truth. They shared so many features. And there was something comforting about her, something that pulled him closer. He wracked his brain for any memory of something Grimmjow had said about her, but came up short. Ichigo smiled guiltily, “It’s nice to meet you.”_

_The Cacique smiled warmly, “Oh how we waited…”_

_“I’m sorry…” Ichigo breathed out. “Waited for what?”_

_“Our tribe held a ceremony,” the Cacique went on to explain, “where young Atlantians on the cusp of adulthood would be paired with their mate.” The Cacique knocked her shoulder against Ichigo’s, “Atlantians mate for life, ya know…”_

_“But live alone in the trees most of the time, right?” Ichigo added._

_“Depends on the season,” the Cacique offered. “I would’ve loved to teach you the ways of our tribes. But I never had the chance.” The Cacique’s face darkened. She brushed at her eyes roughly. “And now’s not the time.”_

_“I am here, Ichigo, to guide you through three memories, none of which belong to you…”_

_Ichigo nodded solemly. He wanted to ask her a million questions. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to know, above all else, what it meant that she had waited for him… But he realized that he was dead and she was only a figment of his imagination. And soon everything would stop. “I understand.”_

_They were suddenly standing on the beach, the white sand sprawling for miles. The clear-blue ocean roared against the shore. It was beautiful. And, without being told, Ichigo knew it was Grimmjow’s home. The Cacique’s face lit up as she viewed her surroundings. She looked to be in absolute bliss. Ichigo’s face split into a smile, just watching her expressions._

_But then there was a terrible boom. Ichigo turned, spinning in a circle. The beautiful, clear sky filled with ash and choking, black smoke. The earth trembled beneath their feet. Ichigo threw his arms out to steady himself, but a moment later that proved unnecessary. It didn’t matter how much the ground shook, Ichigo and the Cacique were unharmed._

_“What’s going on?” Ichigo asked._

_The Cacique pointed a thin finger and Ichigo’s gaze followed. In the forest there was a battle raging. The Atlantians fought hard with their spears and clubs. They fought against an army of inhuman men; skin, eyes, and hair as black as tar. The men were like shadows, devoid of color and life. And when they fell to an Atlantian warrior, they stood back up again._

_In the distance, there was a group of people watching. They were Masters, Ichigo knew instantly. They surveyed the battle with great interest, watching as their army of undead soldiers massacred the ancient tribes._

_And then Ichigo and the Cacique were there, standing among the Masters. Ulquiorra was there as well, standing with his back pressed against the stone wall behind him. He shielded his eyes from the sun, blinking in discomfort. There were so many Masters there, watching with rapt interest._

_“Ain’t no sense ‘nit.” One of the Masters drawled, his mouth pulled into a sly grin. His eyes were slanted and narrow and gave the ghoulish impression of a mask. “Ya proved yer point, Kyoka…”_

_“No, Shinso,” Aizen refused, shaking his head. “They’re not good enough. Not yet.”_

_“These people are strong.” Another, larger Master said. “Some of your shifters aren’t getting back up.”_

_“What if they win?” Ulquiorra asked, his green eyes glittering._

_“They won’t.” Aizen said simply, smiling warmly. It was when he smiled that he was the most dangerous. “It took me forever to make this many. I won’t have them defeated.”_

_“They ain’t human,” Shinso pointed out, turning away from the battle. “What’s the sense in killin’ ‘em?”_

_“They may not be humans,” Aizen agreed. “But they’re also not Xibalbans.”_

_“Don’t you think Nozarashi and Hyourinmaru will find out?” Another Master asked nervously._

_“Let them.” Aizen retorted. “Soon every Xibalban will have their own shifter. This is the future…”_

_There was a terrible shriek. The Cacique’s eldest daughter had been wounded in battle. Ichigo recognized the perfumed scent of Love Cervere as it seeped from her wounds. The Cacique shouted instructions, anger roiling off her with its own distinct odor. There was a final clash, raw power of the Atlantians versus Aizen’s undead army. The Atlantians had gotten serious and ended the confrontation immediately._

_“Ah, too bad,” Shinso chimed. “They’re dead. Time to go.”_

_“Wait!” Aizen snapped, holding out his hand in a halting gesture. “What is this power?”_

_“I told ya they weren’t human,” Shinso replied. “Must be somethin’ special they got.”_

_“Wait here.” Aizen instructed, crossing the beach in an instant._

_“Who are you? What evil have you brought to our home?” The Cacique growled, thrusting her spear forward._

_“My name is Kyoka Suigetsu.” Aizen said in introduction. “And you have killed over half of my shifters.”_

_“’Shifters’? That is what those creatures were?” the Cacique asked, shaking her head in repulsion. “”I am Grimquey Jaegerjaquez, the 28 th Cacique of Atlantis. And you will leave my home…”_

_“I was curious, as to whether we could come to an arrangement,” Aizen suggested charmingly. “You see, I possess more magic than you could ever imagine…”_

_“I have my own.” The Cacique barked. “Leave now.”_

_“Do you all?” Aizen wondered, looking around at the alarmed but focused faces of the villagers._

_“Leave!” the Cacique shouted._

_“We’ll just have to do this the hard way then.” Aizen decided. He disappeared from view, reappearing directly beside the Cacique, slashing across the Cacique’s chest with his claws. The Cacique was critically wounded; she collapsed in the sand, blood spilling over her hands. She gasped in shock, her blue eyes wide and fearful. “Show me.” Aizen breathed. “Are you special?”_

_“Grim!” a large, broad man shouted. He smashed his hands against his chest with a completely animalistic despair._

_“Stay back, Quezjow…” the Cacique warned, her blood stained hand held up in warning._

_The Atlantians were enraged. They stomped their feet and beat their hands against their chests. The noise was deafening and it made Aizen’s skin crawl. Aizen merely smiled. “Go on then. Show me how you’re special…”_

_Quezjow, Grimmjow’s father and husband to the Cacique, let out a mighty roar. His skin rippled, his skin stretching into patches of snow white fur. “Oh wow.” Aizen breathed in amazement as he watched the Atlantian transform into a panther._

_“They’re just like us…” Shinso murmured in awe._

_“No.” Aizen decided, his smile fading. He kneeled beside the Cacique and pressed his claws at her throat. He closed his eyes, forcing his claws through her thin throat. “They die.”_

_Ichigo looked toward the Cacique that was guiding him. He opened his mouth but, in the end, couldn’t find anything to say. The Cacique watched Aizen drop her lifeless body to the ground. She watched as her husband attacked. And she watched as the other Masters joined in, forced to protect Aizen from the ravenous, bloodthirsty Atlantians._

_“The Masters wiped you out.” Ichigo finally spoke, shaking his head._

_“All of us but one.” The Cacique confirmed. “He saw our power and wanted to enslave our people. All refused.”_

_“Except for one…” Ichigo realized._

_“Grimmjow returned after six years,” the Cacique explained. “He never found you.”_

_“Me?”_

_“He had a vision of his mate. And he left Atlantis to search for him, for you…”_

_“Me?” Ichigo stumbled backward, his hand flying up to his mouth._

_“He left to find you. He became discouraged and returned home. But by then everyone was gone.” The Cacique explained. “He lived here alone for a year before he had another vision.”_

_“A vision?” Ichigo felt foolish to be surprised at this point._

_“He had a vision of the man that killed his tribe.”_

_“His Master,” Ichigo realized looking toward the memory of Aizen. “That’s him.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Why? Why would he make a deal with him?”_

_“Because that man could offer him something no one else on Earth could.”_

_“What?”_

_“To forget.”_

_“Forget what?” Ichigo asked nervously._

_“Everything that hurt.”_

_“Why are you showing me this?” Ichigo questioned. “I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault. I wasn’t even alive yet… Then he…”_

_“He could never find you, because you didn’t yet exist.” The Cacique confirmed. “But we had no way to know that… not yet… And I’m showing you this because it’s important to you.” the Cacique reminded gently. “You’ve been sinking into Veritas, the Lake of Truths. Every truth, every memory that the Xibalbans possess is here…”_

_“Even some memories of things that have not yet happened…” the Cacique continued. “And, as for me… I am here because Grimmjow’s memories were stolen by a Xibalban. And now his knowledge is common knowledge for all…”_

_“This knowledge will kill you.” the Cacique explained. “If you stay too long.”_

_“I’m not dead yet?” Ichigo asked._

_“No.” the Cacique said, walking along the beach. “Because I am here as your guide.”_

_“But you’re not really her, right?” Ichigo questioned unsurely._

_“No.” the Cacique agreed. “I’m not.”_

_“Then who are you?”_

_“A friend.” The Cacique said simply. “At least, one day…”_

_“If Grimmjow hadn’t left to search for me, would he be dead?” Ichigo asked, following quickly after the Cacique._

_“Yes.” The Cacique confirmed, nodding solemnly. “He would’ve died in battle with his people.”_

_“And his reward for signing the contract, it was to forget everything?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Grimmjow said he was one of the first shifters, so…”_

_The Cacique turned to meet Ichigo’s gaze, “Our power, his body, was a source of inspiration for the Xibalbans. Our ability to transform became the base of the modern shifter’s power.”_

_“You mean we transform because of you, er, him?”_

_“Here’s another,” the Cacique said, nodding to the left._

_The scenery changed again. Ichigo was surprised to find himself in the throne room of the Council. He stepped forward, edging closer to whispering shifters._

_“They want representation.” Unohana said. “They love him. He’s a folk hero.”_

_“He’s just lucky.” Yamamoto breathed._

_“Who are they talking about?” Ichigo asked the Cacique._

_The Cacique pointed toward Urahara who winked directly at Ichigo, as if he could see him. “Luck or not, Ichigo Kurosaki belongs on the Council…”_

_“We know Jaegerjaquez’s vote.” Hirako added._

_“’Go fuck yourselves’ is not a vote.” Yamamoto barked._

_The Cacique giggled, covering her mouth with her jeweled hand. She looked over at Ichigo and smiled. “He was raised better, I swear…”_

_“Ichigo’s survival is unheard of. It’s miraculous.” Unohana reasoned. “If he doesn’t join the Council, what would become of him? Could we control the others? Keep them from flocking toward him? His power is unfathomable. He’s the strongest of us all…”_

_“If he were to speak out against us…” Yamamoto realized, sharing a look with Unohana._

_“We have nothing to fear from sweet, little Mister Kurosaki.” Urahara insisted. “Believe me.”_

_“I trust you.” Hirako murmured, nodding for emphasis. “You’d know.”_

_“So we invite him to the Council and what then? He serves as our golden boy? Our model citizen? Will he understand what we’re doing here?” Yamamoto whispered._

_“Everyone knows we’re here to protect shifters from Masters,” Unohana said simply. “I see no reason we need to tell him otherwise.”_

_“I don’t understand…” Ichigo murmured, moving closer to the Cacique. “What are they talking about? I’ve never been invited to join the Council and…”_

_“It’s a memory, that hasn’t happened yet.” The Cacique replied, watching the shifters with a stony gaze._

_“The real purpose of the Council,” Urahara sighed, his eyes locking on Ichigo’s, “is to protect humans from predatory Masters_ and _shifters. I think he could understand that.”_

_“But will he understand that killing other shifters is necessary?” Unohana questioned._

_“Can he tolerate hunting down weak Masters and the resulting deaths of their shifters?” Yamamoto added._

_“The kid is nearly a clean slate.” Hirako pointed out. “He’s not all there. I don’t think it’ll be…”_

_“What does he mean?” Ichigo asked, looking from the Cacique to Urahara anxiously. “What does he mean by that?”_

_“Trust me,” Urahara said, meeting Ichigo’s gaze again. “It’ll all be okay.”_

_And then the palace was gone. They were standing in a dark cavern, the dim light reflecting off the smooth, black surface of a lake. Ichigo turned around to face the Cacique in bewilderment. “What did that mean? What happens to me?”_

_The Cacique smiled sadly, “We don’t have much time.”_

_“What?”_

_“The longer I hold you here, the more you’ll forget.” The Cacique explained. “There’s one last thing I want you to see…”_

“Get up.” Ulquiorra pleaded.  “You’re not so weak as all that.”

“Get up, you stupid, little pig!” Ulquiorra shouted, rushing toward the lake.

 “He’s dead. He’s not getting up. Veritas isn’t something mortals can survive…” Nozarashi explained with a shrug.

“How many times have I tried to kill you?” Ulquiorra demanded, searching the water with his hand. “You’ve never done me any favors. You’re truly the worst servant.”

 “The shifter is dead.” Nozarashi snapped, gesturing his hand with finality. “The end.”

“No.” Ulquiorra answered, shaking his head. “He’s going to get up. He’s going to get up…right…now….” Ulquiorra splashed through the water blindly. “He’s _my_ shifter. He’s not going to die in such a pathetic way…” Ulquiorra shuddered, still sick and weakened. “Damn it! Get up this instant!”

“Give me his stone.” Nozarashi demanded, reaching out his hand.

Komamura shook his head, “Just one more moment… please…”

“I am Veritas!” Nozarashi blurted in frustration. “I think I know if he’s dead or not! And Ichigo Kurosaki is a fucking dead man!”

“Don’t fucking listen to him! GET UP! GET UP NOW, ICHIGO!” Ulquiorra bellowed, slapping the surface of the water. “Get up!”

There was an eerie ripple of the water. Gooseflesh prickled across Ulquiorra’s white skin. Nozarashi’s mouth dropped open and he turned toward the center of the lake. It was as if every ounce of humidity had been sucked out of the cavern. A chill encircled them, and each of them shuddered in turn.

“What’s that?” Hitsugaya asked, kneeling on the ground and rubbing his head sorely.

“I…” Nozarashi blinked in astonishment.

There was a stirring in the center of the lake and Ichigo’s ginger colored head began to emerge. His head moved slowly; his hair, then only his eyes showing above the surface of the water. He stood unnaturally, as if he were a screw being unscrewed. Finally, he stood in the chest deep water, his mouth opening. Water poured from his lips, spilling into the lake like a fountain.  Ichigo smiled, so unnerving it nearly paralyzed the Xibalbans present. And then he spoke, calm and even, “I’m up.”

“Ah, Ichigo,” Ulquiorra murmured, rubbing his hands together. “Finally…”

“I thought you said…” Hitsugaya gasped, turning to look at Nozarashi.

Nozarashi nodded, tapping his finger against his forehead, “Got it, Katen.”

“What?” Hitsugaya shook his head in confusion.

“Tenken was right,” Nozarashi admitted. “The Creator wouldn’t’ve asked if there wasn’t a way.”

“Ichigo,” Ulquiorra snapped. “Come here this instant.”

Ichigo obeyed, walking from the lake wordlessly. Water poured from his clothes, dripping from his hair and rolling down his skin. He rolled his shoulders backward, cracking his neck bones loudly. He approached Ulquiorra, his brown eyes focused intently on his Master.

“I knew it,” Ulquiorra breathed out, brushing his fingers against Ichigo’s cheek. “I knew you were stronger than that.”

“I’m not dead.” Ichigo breathed out, turning his head toward Nozarashi.

“I see that.” Nozarashi murmured.

“Ichigo,” Komamura called out, gesturing him toward him. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Master,” Ichigo rattled, ignoring Komamura. His bones snapped and shifted beneath his skin. His face slackened, his skin greying.

Ulquiorra’s brows furrowed, “What is it?”

“Thank you, Master.” Ichigo breathed, reaching up and cupping Ulquiorra’s chin.

“W-what for?” Ulquiorra stammered, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Calling me back.” Ichigo explained, placing his palm against Ulquiorra’s chest. “And doing it so convincingly.”

“What does that-” Ulquiorra’s words were cut off by a shrieking sound. The sound screeched out from Ichigo’s palm. A growing sphere of energy appeared between them. The ball spun wildly in his hand, growing larger and larger. “What is this?”

“What is that?” Hitsugaya asked, looking to Nozarashi in concern.

“This is one hundred years,” Ichigo breathed out, “of ruining me.”

“You stupid little sow, if you dare…”

“I dare, Master.” Ichigo spat, pushing forward. Ulquiorra’s feet dragged through the gravel as Ichigo shoved him backward. He forced Ulquiorra against the wall of the cavern. Ulquiorra’s green eyes widened as he struggled against the shifter.

“What are you…? I don’t… Let go!” Ulquiorra began to panic, unable to free himself of Ichigo’s grip.

“There’s always something I’ve wanted to say to you,” Ichigo whispered, pinning Ulquiorra painfully against the stone wall.

“And what’s that, you stupid, pathetic worm?” Ulquiorra snapped, his hands tearing violently at Ichigo’s hands.

“He was never looking at you, bitch.” Ichigo growled.

The ball of energy shot from Ichigo’s hand, spinning forcefully against Ulquiorra’s chest. It cut through his flesh, blood and skin tearing out in a circular motion. The ball slashed into Ulquiorra and through him, exploding into the rock behind him. The cavern rocked from the force, sheets of rock collapsing.

Ulquiorra sputtered, fingering the hole in his chest with incomprehension. He looked down, blood spilling past his lips and onto his chest. He studied the hole in shock before looking up. “Ah… you… got… me…”

“Ichigo,” Komamura called out again. “Let’s go.”

Ulquiorra’s body began to crumble. He laughed bitterly, blood spraying past his lips. He looked toward Komamura, sliding down the broken wall and onto the floor. “I picked… a good one, af-ter all… didn’t I?”

Ulquiorra’s body continued to break, his arms falling off and turning to dust. He sank further down to the ground, his head lolling to the side. Every inch of him began to deteriorate.

“Fuck.” Nozarashi said, whistling lowly.

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” Hitsugaya breathed out.

“I have.” Komamura said, kneeling beside Ulquiorra. He placed his hand on Ulquiorra’s head, the last place still flesh and blood. “You picked good, Murcielago.” Ulquiorra nodded, causing his cheek to crumble to dust. “He’ll do great things with your power.”

“Ichi-go,” Ulquiorra gasped. “Take care of-”

And then he spoke no more.


	36. What You've Tamed

** Part XXXVI: What You’ve Tamed **

_“People have forgotten this truth," the fox said. "But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose.”  
_ ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry,  _The Little Prince_

* * *

 

“Hey, hey,” Komamura said, shaking Ichigo gently. “Stay with me…”

Ichigo nodded, a strange heat spreading through him, “I’m okay, I just…”

“He’s burning up.” Komamura shouted. “What’s going on?”

“He is really hot,” Hitsugaya agreed, placing an icy hand on Ichigo’s forehead.

“It’s Veritas.” Nozarashi explained, folding his arms over his chest. “He needs to get outta here.”

“What do you mean it’s Veritas?” Hitsugaya asked, Ichigo’s skin scalding against his frozen hand.

“First o’all, mortals ain’t meant to get in it. One drop is enough to put ‘em in a coma for a few days.” Nozarashi explained. “And second, it requires an exchange of information.”

“Okay, and why’s it still affecting him?” Komamura questioned impatiently.

“It’s takin’ its memories.” Nozarashi said, looking out into the water. “Quid pro quo.”

“Well, it’s eating away at his brain.” Hitsugaya snapped. “Do something.”

“Keep tellin’ me what to do. I love it.” Nozarashi snarled.

“I’m taking him back.” Komamura decided, tossing the weakened shifter over his shoulder. “Hitsugaya, is there anything you can do to cool him down?”

“I’m on it.” Hitsugaya replied, placing both hands on Ichigo’s head.

“Goodbye now.” Nozarashi barked, turning his back on the others. “See ya next time Katen needs a fuckin’ favor.”

“Thank you, Kenpachi.” Komamura said gratefully, bowing at the waist. “Thank you.”

“Go on and get outta here.” Nozarashi groaned, shaking his head. “Before you addle that poor little shifter’s head.”

“I’ll make the portal,” Hitsugaya offered, creating a frozen, silvery ring of light. “That should cool him down.”

“What about Murcielago?” Komamura asked, sparing one last look toward Ulquiorra’s decimated remains.

“He’s already back in Carcer.” Hitsugaya explained. “He won’t have the strength to get out for a very long time.” Hitsugaya gestured to the portal slowly. “Go ahead. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” Komamura agreed, nodding.

“And Tenken,” Hitsugaya called out.

“Yeah?”

“You were right.” Hitsugaya admitted. “He did change in the end.”

“Yeah.” Komamura breathed out, nodding slowly. He gave one last look toward Ulquiorra’s remains before stepping through the portal and out of Xibalba.

* * *

“He’s back.” Grimmjow exclaimed, smashing his fist against the table.

“What? What are you talking about?” Unohana wondered, watching Grimmjow leap up from his chair.

“Ichigo.” Urahara realized, following Grimmjow with his eyes. “He’s returned.”

“As a shifter?” Yamamoto pressed, straining to sense his presence.

“Holy shit.” Hirako breathed out, exchanging a look of relief with Urahara. “He did it.”

“Are you sure it’s the shifter?” Unohana questioned in concern.

“As fucking sure as I’ve ever been.” Grimmjow retorted, racing toward the heavy oak doors. He gestured to the guards impatiently, “get these doors open!”

But the doors swung open on their own, revealing two figures standing side by side. Komamura lifted his hand in greeting, smile courteously. “Hello, Council… I bring good tidings…”

“Ichigo!” Grimmjow shouted, rushing the younger shifter. He grabbed Ichigo tightly, embracing him with every ounce of strength he possessed. “I can’t believe it! I mean, I knew you could do it, but I just can’t believe it… You’re really here… You’ve come back…”

Ichigo smiled handsomely, his entire face lighting up. He placed his hand on Grimmjow’s shoulder and squeezed tightly. “Hello.”

“Oh, shit, hello,” Grimmjow groaned into Ichigo’s neck, hugging him tightly once more.

But soon Grimmjow’s entire world came crashing down with four little words. Ichigo smiled in confusion, his eyes crinkling in the corners, “Do I know you?”

Grimmjow took a step back, wounded. He looked Ichigo up and down, trying to determine Ichigo’s seriousness. “What?”

“That’s Grimmjow,” Komamura said, gesturing to Grimmjow in bewilderment. “It’s Grimmjow…”

“Nice to meet you.” Ichigo said, offering his hand politely. “I’m Ichigo Kurosaki.”

“I… I know…” Grimmjow managed with great difficulty. He looked from Komamura to Urahara in desperation. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Ah…” Urahara muttered, looking to Komamura.

“There was a complication,” Komamura began.

“What the fuck sort of complication?!” Grimmjow shouted.

“You don’t know who he is?” Urahara questioned, pointing to Grimmjow. “What about me?” Ichigo shook his head apologetically. “What about Mr. Hirako? Or Yamamoto? Or Miss Unohana?” Ichigo shook his head over and over, a guilty smile on his lips.

“I don’t believe we’ve ever met,” Ichigo said simply, looking to Komamura. “Have we?”

* * *

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Grimmjow demanded.

Komamura shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips, “He’s lucky to be alive… I’m not sure, but I think that…”

“Is he dangerous?” Unohana interjected.

Komamura shook his head again, “He’s the same person he was before, it’s just that…”

“What of his Master? Are they truly separated? What’s to stop him from possessing him again?” Yamamoto spouted off, rapid fire.

“Okay, wait a moment… wait a moment… Komamura is only one man. He can only talk so fast.” Urahara drawled, circling around Komamura and squeezing his broad shoulders. “Tell us what happened, from the time Hitsugaya and Kurosaki left here.”

“We left for Veritas. The Master, Ulquiorra, was complete so there was no harm in doing so. He already had his body and soul together.” Komamura began to explain. “But he made a mistake in his contract. It voided Ichigo’s obligation. Without that mistake, Ichigo would be dead and Ulquiorra would be whole.”

“We tried to separate Ulquiorra from Ichigo, but it wasn’t working. Ichigo’s body sustained too much damage.” Komamura paused, thinking over his next words carefully. “Ichigo… died… and it forced Ulquiorra out. Ulquiorra did something. I’m still not sure why, but he revived Ichigo… and…” Komamura worried he had said too much. He watched the elder shifters nervously. “Ichigo lost some memories in the process.”

“I’ve known him for nearly one hundred years.” Grimmjow said, rubbing his face with his hands. “I think that’s more than ‘some’.”

“Is it permanent?” Hirako questioned, chewing on his bottom lip.

“There’s no precedent for any of this.” Komamura replied.

“So you don’t know shit?” Grimmjow accused.

“The question we need answered is simple. Is he a danger to the Council?” Yamamoto questioned measuredly.

“That’s all you care about? You care about yourself?” Grimmjow snapped.

“There is a larger cause in jeopardy here.” Unohana explained. “And there is still much to the situation we don’t understand.”

“Like what?” Komamura asked, tucking a strand of sandy blonde hair behind his ear.

“Who defeated the Master? Where is he?” Unohana pressed. “If the Master revived Ichigo, does that mean he’s loyal to him?”

“The Master is…” Komamura sucked in air around his sharp, canine teeth. He shook his head, as if to clear it. “Ichigo destroyed his Master.”

“Destroyed?” Yamamoto asked, his interest piqued. “You can destroy a Master?”

Komamura licked his lips. He opened his mouth to reply but changed his mind, “This is a dangerous road that I’d prefer not to go down.”

“Dangerous for whom?” Unohana inquired. “Us or you?”

“Unohana!” Hirako snapped, straightening up in his chair. “What is wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Komamura has done nothing but help us. And what? You’re threatening him?”

“I’m not threatening him. It was a simple question…”

“What power does Kurosaki possess,” Yamamoto called out, over the noise of Hirako and Unohana’s heated argument, “that he could destroy his Master?”

“He is strong.” Komamura confirmed. “Stronger than you.”

“Stronger than you?” Grimmjow asked, his brows furrowed.

“Yes.” Komamura confirmed. “Most definitely.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Yamamoto interjected. “What do we do with a young, troubled soul with more power than a Master?”

“I don’t like the way this is goin’,” Hirako groaned. “Let’s slow it down for a minute.”

“Ya know what?” Grimmjow muttered, standing up. “I’m taking him and we’re just gonna go.”

“You won’t.” Yamamoto commanded. “He stays here.”

“We’ll just go.” Grimmjow maintained, his eyes meeting Yamamoto’s defiantly.

“We still haven’t voted.” Yamamoto replied. “That _thing_ isn’t going anywhere.”

“You can all go fuck yourselves.” Grimmjow snarled, stomping toward the door. “If you think that you can stop me from doin’ what I want…” Grimmjow burst through the doors and down the hall. He shouted one last time, his voice echoing through the chamber, “Fuck you!”

“Was that his vote?” Urahara asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Please, take this seriously, Kisuke,” Yamamoto chastised.

“Oh, I am.” Urahara replied, his grey eyes meeting Yamamoto’s. “My heart is just a-breakin’ right now. I can hardly focus on anything else…”

Yamamoto shook his head before turning to Unohana, “The problem is the other shifters. They’ve been very curious these last few days. They’ve taken a great interest in him. It’s concerning.”

“They want representation.” Unohana said. “They love him. He’s a folk hero.”

“He’s just lucky.” Yamamoto breathed.

“Luck or not, Ichigo Kurosaki belongs on the Council…” Urahara pointed out.

“We know Jaegerjaquez’s vote.” Hirako added.

“’Go fuck yourselves’ is not a vote.” Yamamoto barked.

 “Ichigo’s survival is unheard of. It’s miraculous.” Unohana reasoned _._ “If he doesn’t join the Council, what would become of him? Could we control the others? Keep them from flocking toward him? His power is unfathomable. He’s the strongest of us all…”

“If he were to speak out against us…” Yamamoto realized, sharing a look with Unohana.

“We have nothing to fear from sweet, little Mister Kurosaki.” Urahara insisted. “Believe me.”

“I trust you.” Hirako murmured, nodding for emphasis. “You’d know.”

“So we invite him to the Council and what then? He serves as our golden boy? Our model citizen? Will he understand what we’re doing here?” Yamamoto whispered.

“Everyone knows we’re here to protect shifters from Masters,” Unohana said simply. “I see no reason we need to tell him otherwise.”

 “The real purpose of the Council,” Urahara sighed, “is to protect humans from predatory Masters and shifters. I think he could understand that.”

“But will he understand that killing other shifters is necessary?” Unohana questioned.

“Can he tolerate hunting down weak Masters and the resulting deaths of their shifters?” Yamamoto added.

“The kid is nearly a clean slate.” Hirako pointed out. “He’s not all there. I don’t think it’ll be that hard to get him to our side.”

 “Trust me,” Urahara said, “It’ll all be okay.”

“Here’s the conclusion I’ve come to, Ichigo Kurosaki is dangerous.” Yamamoto declared. “And he’s either with us or against us.”

“Wait a minute…” Urahara began.

“So,” Yamamoto continued over Urahara. “It’s the Council or death. If he’s dangerous, he should be dangerous to our enemies. With the amendment that we revisit this discussion in one hundred years’ time, my vote is the Council.”

“Council.” Hirako called out.

“I agree to a provisional vote.” Unohana breathed. “I vote for the Council.”

“And we’re unanimous,” Urahara declared with a smile. “I can’t wait to let Kurosaki know.”

* * *

Ichigo looked around the bed chamber for the hundredth time. It was a cold place, and empty. The barrenness was only multiplied by the sprawling space. He sat on the foot of the bed, his hands caressing the cold, soft sheets. He supposed this was a luxurious room, by its size and beauty and quality of bed. But it was sad, and it dampened his mood. It didn’t take him long to realize that despite the elegance of it, this was a prison.

He wracked his brain thinking. What had he done? Why was he here? He’d been looking for someone, hadn’t he? Had he ever found them? He stared at his hands, long and hard. He tried to envision doing something that would warrant his arrest. At first, nothing came to him, but then, like a horrid night terror, flashes of blood sprayed across his palms. He could taste the metal in his mouth; he could smell the blood in the air.

“Shit.” Ichigo breathed out, lying back on the bed. He dropped his hands to his side, afraid to look at them anymore. He licked his lips, his eyes trained on the stalactites on the ceiling. “What did you do, Ichigo?”

Suddenly there was a shout from outside his door. He sat up on the bed, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He thought he could relate to a rabbit. He felt small and cornered and as if he should run. The scuffle outside his chamber ended and the door creaked open, painfully slow.

That man, the one with the shock of blue hair, slipped inside. He smirked, crooked and handsome, and something wiggled in the back of Ichigo’s mind. There was something familiar, something strong that pulled him toward that man. “Yo.”

“Hey.” Ichigo said, breathless and expectant on his bed.

“Pretty crazy, huh? Everything that’s goin’ on…” Grimmjow sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. He sat on the bed beside Ichigo. His skin was so comfortably warm that Ichigo couldn’t help but gravitate closer. “So, you really forgot, like, everything?”

“I guess so.” Ichigo sighed heavily.

“Damn.” Grimmjow spat, looking down at his hands and laughing bitterly. “I can’t say I blame ya.”

“Really?” Ichigo asked, smiling unsurely. “Why’s that?”

“Because sometimes there’s no worse pain than remembering how thing’s once were.”

Ichigo nodded, “I don’t really know, I guess, what sort of things I forgot…”

“There was lots of bad stuff.” Grimmjow explained. And then he nodded his head and smiled, “And then there was some good stuff.”

“Like what?” Ichigo asked, curious.

Grimmjow finally met his gaze. His eyes were stunning and expressive and the most beautiful of blues. Ichigo smiled, feeling a flush settle in his cheeks. Grimmjow returned the smile, brushing his hand over Ichigo’s hair. “There was you.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Ichigo asked with an awkward laugh.

Grimmjow smirked, dropping his hands to his lap. “Oh, fuck. You don’t even want me to start. I’ve got stories for days…”

“Really?” Ichigo asked, covering his mouth to hide his embarrassed smile.

“I once had you convinced you had a curly little pig’s tail.” Grimmjow teased.

“What? No….” Ichigo refused shaking his head.

“And you had the worst habit of leaving your mouth hanging open. Everytime I would look at ya. You’d just be sitting there like a dumbass with yer lil’ tongue dryin’ out…” Grimmjow taunted.

Ichigo’s face turned scarlet. He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. Grimmjow merely smiled, knocking his shoulder against Ichigo’s, “And you never asked the right questions at the right time…” Grimmjow’s face split into a wide grin. “And, fuck, you got stuck in a pyramid once. What a loser.”

“Enough.” Ichigo groaned, covering his eyes. “Clearly I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are.” Grimmjow agreed good-naturedly. “Because ya saw the worst of me and you’d still talk to me the next day.”

“We were friends?” Ichigo asked, dropping his hands to his lap.

“You were always a friend.” Grimmjow explained. “Even when I made it difficult.”

“And you? Were you my friend?” Ichigo asked, his brown eyes wide with expectation.

“I’m not really the friend type.” Grimmjow said with a gruff laugh.

“Oh.” Ichigo nodded.

“But, fuck, do I love you.” Grimmjow breathed out, his hand reaching out slowly for Ichigo’s.

“And…” Ichigo murmured. “Do I love you?”

Grimmjow pulled Ichigo more closely, “Oh, you can’t get enough of me.”

“Komamura said I’d probably get my memories back eventually.” Ichigo pointed out. “So you’d better not lie to me.”

“Look, there’s only one thing that I want you to remember,” Grimmjow insisted.

“And what’s that?” Ichigo asked, heat spreading across his skin where Grimmjow’s body touched his own.

“I mate for life.” Grimmjow whispered. He brushed his lips against Ichigo’s slowly, cautiously. And when Ichigo didn’t pull away, he kissed harder.

Ichigo leaned into Grimmjow’s kiss. Ichigo couldn’t have put words to it, but it felt natural and comfortable and good. They kissed deeply and passionately. And it only ended when they needed air. Suddenly, Ichigo smacked his palm against Grimmjow’s chest roughly. Grimmjow pulled back, rubbing his chest exaggeratedly, “Ah, what the hell, Ichi?”

“I don’t know.” Ichigo said, fighting back a smile. “There’s just some part of me that really wanted to do that.”

“Oh, yeah?” Grimmjow groaned, laughing despite himself.

Ichigo smiled handsomely, his fingers interlocking with Grimmjow’s. “Yeah. Any idea why?”

Grimmjow made a face, pretending to be deep in thought. And then he shrugged, his usual smirk returning, “Not a damn clue.”

 

 

**The End**


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